THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


IN  MEMORY  OF 
MRS.  VIRGINIA  B.  SPORER 


Josuah  Sylvester—From  Drawing  by  Winifred  Winans 


THE  DIVINE  WEEKS 

OF 

Josuah  Sylvester 


JXCainly  translated  from  the  French  of  William  de  Saluste, 
Lord  of  the  Bartas. 


Edited,    with    introdu<5tion,    notes,    emendations    and    excisions, 

BY  THERON  WILBER  HAIGHT 

Collated  with  the  quarto  editions  of  1 608,  1611  and  1613,  and  the  folios 
of  1621,  1633  and  1641 


,  Wis.,  U.  S.  A. 
H.  M.   YOUMANS,  'PUBLISHER 
1908 


COPYRIGHT     1908     BY 
THERON  WILDER  HA1GHT 


TO  THE  MEMORY  OF 
THE  BOY  MILTON 
THIS  ABRIDGMENT  OF 
THE  BOOK  HE  LOVED 
BEST  IS  INSCRIBED 


Copy  of  inscription  on  a  fly  leaf  follow- 
ing the  printed  text  of  "The  Divine 
Weeks"  in  a  quarto  volume  belonging 
to  the  edition  of  1611.  John  Hampden 
was  seventeen  years  old  at  the  date  of 
the  publication,  and  the  writing  may  very 
possibly  be  his  genuine  autograph. 


CONTENTS 


Page 

Portrait  of  Sylvester  Frontispiece 

Reproduction   of  Hampden  inscription iv 

A  Personal  Preface   ix  and  x 

Introductory  Sketch  by  the  Editor  xi 

Opinions  of  Other  Authors  xxviii 

Title  Page  of  1611 Opposite  xxxii 

Portrait  of  Milton  at  10  years  old    Opposite   1 

BUILDING  THE  WORLD;      THE  FIRST  DAY.— 

Invocation    1 

The  Poet's  Intention  2 

Views  of  the  World    3 

Chaos    5 

Against  Greek  Philosophy  7 

The  Day  of  Judgment  8 

Beginning  of  Light   12 

In  Praise  of  Night  13 

Genesis  of  the  Angels  15 

Rebellion  of  Angels  15 

Satan's  Later  Efforts   16 

Ministry  of  Angels  19 

Destruction  of  the  Assyrians   20 

THE  SECOND  DAY.— 

Infinite    Variety    24 

Emergence  from  Chaos    24 

Earth  in  the  Midst  26 

The  Winds— Heat  and  Cold   26 

Meteorology    30 

Earthquakes    32 

Rainbows     33 

Prodigies     35 

Warning  to  England   36 

Places  of  the  Elements   37 

Structure  of  the  Spheres    40 

THE  THIRD  DAY.— 

Subsidence  of  the  Waters   43 

Ocean  Not  Augmented  by  Streams  45 

The    Tides    46 

Remarkable  Springs  and  Rivers  47 


The  Earth  a  Perfect  Sphere   50 

Littleness  of  Terrestrial  Things   51 

Beginnings  of  Vegetation    53 

The   Bartholomew   Massacre    54 

Medicinal  Virtues  of  Plants   55 

Their  Poisonous  Qualities  58 

Cotton,  Silk  and  Hemp  58 

The    Cocoa    59 

Precious  Stones  and  Metals   60 

The   Loadstone    62 

Foundation  of  the  World   64 

Happiness  of  Country  Life  64 

THE  FOURTH  DAY.— 

God's  Works  Haste  Not,  Halt  Not 69 

Placing    the    Stars     70 

Theories  of  the   Stars    70 

The  Foolish   Copernicans    72 

Love  of  Heaven  for  Earth  73 

Signs  of  the  Zodiac  74 

Constellations  North  and  South   76 

The  Planetary  Spheres  76 

The    Planets     78 

Starry  Influences    80 

The  Moon's  Powers   81 

God  Not  Subject  to  Fate  82 

Laudation  of  the  Sun   83 

The    Seasons    86 

Courses  of  the  Moon 87 

Hezekiah's  Dial   89 

Halt  of  the  Moon  by  Joshua   89 

THE  FIFTH  DAY.— 

Likeness  of  Fish  to  Land  Animals 91 

Wonderful  Denizens  of  the  Floods  92 

Story  of  Arion    98 

Birds     100 

The  Phoenix — Her  Death  and  Life 101 

Song    Birds     103 

The    Griffin    104 

Waterfowl     107 

Domestic  Fowl  and  Ostrich   109 

The    Silkworm     Ill 

The  Maiden  and  the  Eagle   Ill 

THE  SIXTH  DAY.— 

Elephant,  Rhinoceros  and  Dragon  115 

Giraffe  and  Beasts  of  Burden    116 

Deer,  Dog,  Squirrel,  Etc 117 

Malignant   and   Poisonous   Creatures    118 

Ichneumon  and  Aspic   120 

Wren  and  Crocodile   121 


Mantichor  and  Cephus   121 

Lion  and  Roman  Slave    122 

Man,   the  World's   Epitome    124 

Heavenly  Father  and  Son  Consult  125 

The  Creation  of  Man   126 

The  Brain,  Heart  and  Lungs    130 

Circulation  of  the  Blood   131 

Wonders  of  Memory   132 

The  Soul's  Lofty  Flights   133 

German  Automata    135 

Persian  Artificial   Sky    136 

Archimedes'   Sphere,   etc 137 

The  Advent  of  Woman   139 

Monstrosities  of  Lower  Life   141 

THE  SEVENTH  DAY.— 

God's  Contemplations   143 

His  Terrestrial  Supervision    146 

Virtue  Requires  Action  151 

Constancy  in  Man    152 

Right   Observance   of  the   Sabbath    153 

Teachings  of  Nature  156 

Appeal  to  Leaders  of  Men 161 

THE  STORY  OF  ADAM;  EDEN  — 

Invocation     163 

Contemporary    Poets    164 

The   Earthly   Paradise    165 

The    Place   of  Eden    168 

The  Tree  of  Life   169 

Tree  of  Knowledge   171 

Labor  in  Eden  172 

A  Rustic  in  London  173 

Adam's  Converse  with  God    174 

Modern   Religious  Raptures    175 

God's   Commands   to  Adam    176 

Adam's  Assurances    176 

Flowers,  Trees,  Rivers  and  Caves   177 

Wonderful   Orchids    179 

Cochineal  and  Agave   180 

The  Sensitive  Plant   181 

Death  the  Effect  of  Sin   183 

THE  IMPOSTURE.— 

Prayer   for    Inspiration    185 

The  Approach  of  Satan   186 

Choice  of  Snaky  Disguise 188 

Parts  Played  by   Satan    191 

Reconnaisances    192 

Attacks  Eve  192 

Eve    Surrenders    193 

Comparison  with  Young  Thief    193 

Eve  Prevails  with  Adam    194 

The  Lord  Discovers  the  Sin   195 


The  Curse  Pronounced    197 

Its   Reasonableness   Maintained    197 

Consequences  Unavoidable   200 

The  Expulsion  from  Paradise  201 

Comparison  with  Spanish  Plants   201 

THE  FURIES.— 

Prayer  for  Divine  Help    203 

Meeting  the  King's  Ark    204 

The  World's  Lute  Discordant  205 

Adam    Draws   All   into   Sin    206 

Nature's   Assaults   upon   Man    207 

Summoning    the    Furies    209 

The  Coming  of  the  Furies   210 

Famine  and  War   211 

Physical  and  Mental  Disease  212 

The  Poet's  Affliction  of  Fever 214 

Derangements  of  the  Stomach    215 

Skin   Diseases   and  Tumors    216 

Classification  of  Diseases  217 

Transformation  of  Diseases   218 

Remedies  of  Man  and  Beast   219 

Disturbances   Through  the   Spirit    220 

Avarice,  Wrath  and  Love   222 

"Liberal,"  "Cleanly,"  "Valiant,"  224 

Advice  to  Would-be  Soldiers   224 

THE  HANDICRAFTS  — 

Apostrophe  to   Peace    227 

Praise  of  England  and  the  Queen   228 

Sorrow's   Crown   of  Sorrow    229 

Food  and  Raiment  of  Adam  and  Eve 230 

Provision  against  Winter    232 

Discovery   of  Fire    233 

Cain   and   Abel    235 

Murder  of  Abel    236 

Founding   the   First   City    237 

Taming  of   the   Horse    238 

Discovery    of    Iron    241 

Jubal  and  the  First  Lute 242 

Education    of    Seth    243 

Adam's    Prophecies    245 

APPENDIX— 

Epistle  to  R.  Nicolson   251 

A    Hebrew    Courtship    254 

To  the  Militant  Christian   255 

Sonnets  I— V   256 

To  His   Beloved    258 

A  Contented  Mind   259 

Constancy    260 

The   Soul's   Errand    260 

The  Worth  of  Virtue   264 

Guidance  from  Above   264 

Sacrum  Memoriae    265 

GENERAL    INDEX    .                                                     269 


A  PERSONAL  PREFACE 

This  edition  of  The  Divine  Weeks  includes  five  hundred 
exemplars  only,  and  no  copies  thereof  will  be  printed  here- 
after. 

As  the  original  work  has  been  ignored  by  most  English 
writers  of  dates  subsequent  to  the  Stuart  restoration,  and  has 
not  been  re-published  during  all  that  period,  (except  in  a  pri- 
vately printed  edition  of  one  hundred  copies  by  A.  B.  Gros- 
art,  which  I  have  not  seen,)  it  can  not  be  reasonably  expected 
that  this  abridgment  will  attract  much  attention  outside  of 
a  select  circle  composed  of  lovers  and  admirers  of  Milton, 
with  whose  poetry  its  lines  are  most  intimately  related,  and 
including  other  readers  whose  tastes  incline  them  towards 
explorations  of  the  obscurer  vistas  of  the  past. 

If  another  edition  shall  be  called  for,  however,  it  will  be 
revised  and  more  or  less  enlarged  from  this.  And  in  any 
case  the  editor  will  feel  obliged  for  suggestions  from  every 
source  in  regard  to  changes  that  may  be  thought  desirable 
in  text  or  comment. 

That  the  footnotes  now  appearing  are  not  so  full  or  so 
elaborate  as  could  be  wished  is  sufficiently  obvious  to  slight 
examination.  The  diligent  and  industrious  research  neces- 
sary for  making  them  so  has  not  yet  been  practically  attain- 
able, but  it  is  believed  that  a  considerable  fund  of  somewhat 
valuable  and  interesting  information  is  contained  in  them  as 
they  now  stand.  Several  of  them  were  suggested  by  the 
Rev.  Charles  Dunster's  "Considerations  on  Milton's  Early 

Reading,"  published  in  London  in  1800.     Mr.  Dunster's  ob- 

ix 


servations  do  not  cover  any  part  of  Paradise  Lost,  however, 
and  the  echoes  cited  here  from  the  great  epic,  as  well  as  most 
of  the  other  comparisons,  are  such  only  as  have  occurred  to 
the  recollection  of  the  present  editor  from  his  own  earlier 
reading. 

Grateful  acknowledgment  is  due  to  Miss  Ina  Reid  of 
Waukesha,  for  her  careful  and  intelligent  oversight  of  the 
proof  sheets  of  the  volume,  and  for  other  important  assist- 
ance in  the  course  of  the  transition  of  the  manuscript  into 
printed  pages. 

The  pen  and  ink  drawing  of  Sylvester  by  Miss  Winans  is 
not  only  a  faithful  picture,  but  is  also  distinguished  as  the 
unique  example  of  a  portrait  of  the  poet  in  which  an  absurd 
laurel  wreath  does  not  figure.  The  artist  has  successfully 
demonstrated  the  proposition  that  the  Jacobean  roundhead 
had  no  need  of  arboreal  adornment  in  order  to  "make  him 
fit  to  be  seen."  T.  W.  H. 

Waukesha,  Wisconsin,  September,  1908. 


INTRODUCTORY  SKETCH 

BY  THE  EDITOR 

Josuah  Sylvester  was  born  in  the  county  of  Kent,  in  Eng- 
land, in  1563,  the  year  preceding  that  of  the  birth  of  Shake- 
speare in  Warwickshire.  The  two  were  contemporaries  from 
1564  until  the  death  of  the  dramatist  at  about  the  time  Syl- 
vester left  England  for  the  Low  Countries,  where  he  re- 
mained the  rest  of  his  life  in  the  nominal  capacity  of 
secretary  of  one  of  the  trading  companies  established  on  the 
northwestern  coast  of  the  continent  by  English  dissenters 
and  puritans. 

These  companies  were  preparing  the  way  and  making  the 
paths  straight  for  the  New  England  emigration  which  began 
in  1620.  Sylvester  died  September  28,  1618,  at  Middleburgh 
in  the  island  of  Zealand,  being  at  that  time  the  most  famous 
of  English  poets  after  Chaucer.  His  vogue  as  a  versifier 
antedated  that  of  Shakespeare  by  nearly  three  years,  al- 
though he  himself  was  not  at  all  well  known  to  the  reading 
public  until  he  was  twenty-seven  years  old,  the  preceding 
fifteen  years  having  been  spent  in  coastwise  trade  along  the 
shores  of  western  Europe. 

In  his  boyhood  he  had  attended  school,  from  the  age  of 
nine  to  that  of  twelve,  and  the  taste  of  classical  literature 
which  he  obtained  there  seems  not  to  have  been  forgotten 
during  his  marine  career,  for  he  was  still  able  to  write  Latin 
when  he  retired  from  active  commercial  business  in  1590  to 
adopt  literature  as  a  profession.  Apparently  he  had  at  that 
time  accumulated  a  moderate  competence  which  seemed 
sufficient  for  his  maintenance  if  his  literary  efforts  should 
prove  unremunerative. 

A  combination  of  circumstances  was  responsible  for  Syl- 

xi 


vester's  change  of  vocation,  but  the  weightiest  must  have 
been  the  love  of  letters  which  had  never  been  quenched  since 
his  school  days,  and  needed  only  opportunity  to  blaze  forth 
into  living  flame.  He  had  become  an  accomplished  French 
scholar  while  engaged  in  trading  operations,  und  in  his  deal- 
ings with  the  thrifty  Huguenots  of  the  northern  and  western 
ports  of  France,  had  absorbed  their  religious  views  and  in 
particular  had  contracted  a  fervent  admiration  for  the  chief 
poet  of  that  cult,  Guillaume  de  Saluste,  Seigneur  du  Bartas, 
a  nobleman  by  birth  and  training,  and  a  favorite  at  the 
court  of  Navarre  from  his  youth.  Queen  Jeanne,  mother 
of  Henry  IV,  had  commanded  him,  before  he  reached  the  age 
of  twenty-two,  to  turn  the  story  of  Judith  at  Bethulia  into  an 
epic  poem,  of  which  he  gives  the  following  account  in  a  pre- 
face to  the  edition  of  1579: 

"M'ayant  est6  commands,  il  y  a  enuiron  quatorze  ans,  par  feu 
tresillustre  et  tres  vertueuse  princesse  lanne  relne  de  Nauarre, 
de  rediger  1'hlstoire  de  ludit  en  forme  d'un  poeme  epique,  ie  n'ay  pas 
tant  suyui  1'ordre  de  la  frase  du  texte  de  la  Bible,  comme  i'ay  tach6, 
sans  toute  fois  m'eloigner  de  la  veritg  de  1'histoire,  d'imiter  Homere" 
etc. 

The  following  thirteen  years  were  spent  by  Du  Bartas 
mostly  in  diplomatic  service  at  the  courts  of  Queen  Elizabeth, 
King  James  of  Scotland  and  the  king  of  Denmark.  James 
was  a  great  admirer  of  the  "Judith"  and  in  1584  directed  one 
of  his  household,  Thomas  Hudson,  to  turn  that  poem  into 
English  verse.  The  task  Was  so  well  performed  that  Hud- 
son's version  was  incorporated  with  all  the  editions  of  the 
Divine  Weeks  printed  in  London  after  1605. 

Du  Bartas  was  about  thirty-four  years  old  when  he  pub- 
lished, in  1578,  his  astonishingly  successful  epic  of  the  cre- 
ation of  the  world  which  he  called  "La  Sepmaine,"  or  The 
Week.  Edition  after  edition  was  issued  in  several  French 
cities  besides  Paris,  and  also  in  Geneva  and  Brussels.  Trans- 
lations were  made  into  Latin  and  modern  European  tongues. 

King  James  of  Scotland  and  Sir  Philip  Sidney  being  among 

xii 


those  who  undertook  to  prepare  English  versions,  without 
carrying  their  work  to  completion. 

Undoubtedly  the  religious  conditions  of  the  time  had  very 
much  to  do  with  the  acclamations  that  were  heard  in  every 
direction,  but  there  were  some  praises  unmixed  with  the 
religious  sentiment.  For  instance  Ronsard  wrote  to  his  fel- 
low poet  that  the  latter  had  accomplished  more  in  one  "Week" 
than  he  himself  had  been  able  to  do  in  a  lifetime;  and  the 
author  of  the  "Faerie  Queene"  in  a  sonnet  addressed  to  Du 
Bellay  in  the  "Ruins  of  Rome"  had  the  following: 

Needes  must  to  all  eternitie  survive 

That  can  to  other  give  eternall  dayes; 

Thy  days  therefore  are  endles  and  thy  prayse 
Exceeding  all  that  ever  went  before, 

And  after  thee  gins  Bartas  hie  to  rayse 
His  heavenly  muse  th'Almighty  to  adore. 

Live,   happy  spirits,  th'honour  of  your  name, 

And  fill  the  world  with  never  dying  fame. 

Such  a  general  chorus  of  approval  had  an  effect  upon  Du 
Bartas  something  like  that  produced  upon  Lord  Byron  by 
like  applause  more  than  two  hundred  years  afterwards.  It 
caused  him  to  seek  for  more  permanent  fame  both  as  a  sol- 
dier and  as  a  poet.  In  the  intervals  of  peace  in  France  he 
applied  himself  to1  the  extension  of  his  later  poem  so  that  it 
should  cover  the  history  of  the  world  (beginning  with  Adam's 
installation  in  Paradise)  and  be  divided  for  poetical  purposes 
into  seven  equal  parts,  each  of  which  should  be  styled  one 
"Day"  and  be  itself  subdivided  into  four  sections  for  no  oth- 
er perceptible  reason  than  that  of  convenience  of  the  reader. 
The  first  complete  "Day"  was  to  cover  the  narrative  of  Gene- 
sis from  the  creation  of  man  to  the  era  of  the  Flood,  the 
second  to  that  of  Abraham  and  so  on  to  the  sixth,  to  be  de- 
voted to  the  story  of  the  divine  redemption  of  man,  and  the 
seventh,  of  a  prophetic  character,  descriptive  of  the  millen- 
nial Sabbath. 

During  the  twelve  years  following  the  first  printing  of  La 

Sepmaine,  Du  Bartas  completed  four  of  his  proposed  "Days," 

xiii 


bringing  his  version  of  the  biblical  narrative  down  to  the 
capture  of  Jerusalem  by  Nebuchadnezzar,  and  thus  adding 
more  than  twice  its  bulk  to  the  original  poem  on  the  cre- 
ation of  the  world. 

At  the  same  time  the  author  held  a  cavalry  command  un- 
der Henry  of  Navarre  in  the  many  civil  wars  that  were  inter- 
mittently raging  over  France,  and  in  March,  1590,  he  was 
fighting  at  the  decisive  battle  of  Ivry,  afterward  celebrated 
in  the  "Henriade"  of  Voltaire,  and  in  Macaulay's  stirring 
ballad.  Here  he  was  wounded,  though  not  in  appearance 
so  seriously  as  to  interfere  with  his  enthusiasm  for  the  cause. 
He  therefore  produced  a  triumphal  poem  descriptive  of  the 
battle,  comprising  something  more  than  five  hundred  lines; 
but  he  did  not  long  survive  the  exertion. 

Dying  thus  in  the  46th  year  of  his  life,  the  event  was  sad- 
dening to  all  the  protestants  of  Europe,  who  had  come  to 
look  upon  the  poet  as  probably  inspired  by  the  Almighty 
to  rehearse  the  language  of  the  Holy  Ghost  in  such  wise  as 
should  enable  it  to  be  easily  "understanded  of  the  people." 
Sylvester  immediately  proceeded  to  turn  the  swan  song  of 
Du  Bartas  into  English  verse,  and  before  the  end  of  the  year 
his  translation  was  on  sale  in  the  bookshops  of  London. 

The  English  were  in  a  mood  to  appreciate  the  publication 
at  its  full  value,  at  least.  They  had  not  yet  entirely  recov- 
ered from  the  agitation  caused  by  the  supreme  effort  of  the 
Spanish  Armada  two  years  before,  to  overturn  the  English 
government  and  bring  the  subjects  of  Elizabeth  under  the 
rule  of  the  Inquisition.  To  repel  that  attempt  nearly  all  the 
merchant  shipping  attainable  in  the  country  was  pressed  into 
the  naval  service  of  the  government,  and  very  likely  Sylves- 
ter's among  the  rest.  The  Spaniards,  beaten  on  the  sea, 
were  now  helping  the  League  in  its  endeavor  to  prevent  the 
accession  of  Henry  IV  to  the  throne  that  he  had  inherited, 
and  although  driven  from  the  field  of  Ivry,  they  had  com- 


passed  the  death  of  the  leading  poet  of  the  Huguenot  party, 
and  were  not  yet  so  overcome  as  to  be  no  longer  a  menace  to 
religious  liberty,  as  understood  by  protestants  generally. 

Sylvester's  first  serious  attempt  at  figuring  in  the  field  of 
poetry  was  therefore  very  encouraging  in  the  immediate  re- 
sults. The  edition  was  rapidly  sold,  and  in  1 592  another  was 
issued  in  a  thicker  volume  with  extracts  from  the  Divine 
Weeks  and  the  whole  of  a  rather  extended  poem  entitled 
"The  Triumph  of  Faith."  The  new  publication  was 
also  well  received  and  conditions  appeared  to  justify 
the  translator's  divinations  by  anagrams  —  his  favorite 
superstition.  Without  greater  changes  in  spelling 
than  were  understood  to  be  allowable  in  the  construction 
of  anagrams  he  had  discovered  that  "losua  Silvester"  by 
appropriate  transposition  became  "Vere  Os  Salustii,"  or 
"The  real  Mouth  of  Saluste."  By  a  second  shifting  of  the 
name  into  a  French  phrase,  he  was  able  to  read,  "Voy,  Sire, 
Saluste,"  thus  giving  him  ground  for  thinking  that  Du 
Bartas's  personality  had  been  in  some  sense  transferred  to 
himself.  So  he  settled  down  to  steady  work,  and  in  1 598  was 
able  to  produce  a  i6mo  volume  containing  all  of  his  Du 
Bartas  translations  that  were  ready  for  publication;  but  no 
entire  copy  of  it  is  known  to  be  now  in  existence,  so  that  it 
is  impossible  to  present  an  authentic  table  of  its  contents.  In 
the  following  year  he  published  a  translation  from  the  French 
of  the  sonnets  on  the  "Miracle  of  Peace,"  a  specimen  of 
which  is  to  be  found  in  the  notes  to  "The  Handicrafts"  in  this 
volume. 

It  now  seems  necessary  for  the  purpose  of  making  clear 
certain  literary  conditions  of  the  time  to  return  to  Shake- 
speare, although  the  dramatist  was  engaged  in  a  business 
which  the  puritan  poet  esteemed  a  prerogative  of  the  Devil 
himself,  and  not  to  be  touched  by  the  fingers  of  men  who 
were  endeavoring  to  become  worthy  of  eternal  salvation. 


Up  to  1593  the  principal  occupation  of  Shakespeare 
appears  to  have  been  that  of  editor  of  the  plays,  old  and  new, 
that  came  into  the  hands  of  a  certain  stage  management  for 
production  at  the  theater.  Although  Shakespeare  was  also 
an  actor,  it  is  not  shown  that  his  services  in  that  capacity 
were  considered  indispensable ;  but  in  respect  to  the  require- 
ments of  the  stage  for  lines  to  be  spoken  by  the  actors  his 
judgment  was  depended  on  as  that  of  the  managing  editor 
of  a  great  daily  newspaper  is  now  depended  on  in  regard  to 
what  shall  go  into  its  columns,  and  what  shall  stay  out,  when 
matter  is  more  plentiful  than  space. 

In  the  performance  of  these  duties  he  cut  out  portions  and 
inserted  other  portions  of  plays  as  he  pleased,  and  some  writ- 
ers complained  of  his  methods ;  as  for  instance  Robert  Greene 
in  his  "Groatsworth  of  Wit,"  (1592,)  says  that  "Shakescene" 
is  "an  upstart  crow,  beautified  with  our  feathers,  .  .  . 
who  supposes  he  is  as  well  able  to  bombast  our  blank  verse 
as  the  best." 

It  is  difficult  to  imagine  what  the  theater  would  be  today, 
if  there  were  no  railroads,  no  telegraphs  or  telephones,  and 
no  newspapers  to  bring  all  quarters  of  the  earth  within  easy 
reach  of  one  another.  Under  such  circumstances  the  read- 
ing classes  would  have  to  be  addressed  exclusively  by  means 
of  books,  broadsides  and  pamphlets,  and  the  non-readers 
by  word  of  mouth.  Current  local  happenings  would  assume 
a  high  degree  of  prominence  above  events  abroad  in  the  case 
of  every  locality,  and  most  emphatically  so  in  the  case  of  any 
large  city. 

If  the  decade  next  following  our  civil  war  had  presented 
such  conditions  in  the  American  metropolis,  and  Charles  A. 
Dana,  for  example,  had  desired  to  impress  his  sentiments 
upon  the  citizenship,  as  the  columns  of  the  New  York  Sun 
of  that  period  show  that  he  actually  did  desire,  he  would  have 

found  the  theater  the  most  available  medium  for  the  accom- 

xvi 


plishment  of  his  wish,  and  instead  of  the  polished  and  incisive 
sentences  that  actually  came  from  his  pen  and  from  the  pens 
of  the  "young  men"  who  wrote  under  his  supervision,  he 
might  probably  have  produced  dramatic  compositions  of 
great  excellence,  viewed  from  the  standpoint  of  literature 
alone,  sparkling  with  allusions  to  classical  and  contemporary 
writings,  and  also  redolent  with  odors  of  local  and  ephemeral 
significance,  the  flavor  of  which  could  not  be  restored  under 
other  circumstances  and  in  another  age. 

The  situation  in  which  the  Elizabethan  dramatists  found 
themselves  may  have  been  somewhat  of  this  character. 
Whether  their  productions  were  afterwards  to  become  litera- 
ture or  not  did  not  trouble  them  at  all,  it  may  be  reasonably 
supposed,  their  great  object  being  to  get  into  touch  with  the 
generation  then  engaged  in  working  out  the  destinies  of 
England.  To  understand  their  views  in  detail  would  prob- 
ably be  as  hopeless  an  attempt  as  it  would  be  for  them,  if  they 
could  revisit  the  terrestrial  regions  today,  to  understand  why 
current  theatrical  announcements  are  accompanied  by  pict- 
ures of  grinning  female  idiots  having  eyes  rolled  upward  and 
heads  tipped  backward  or  to  one  side.  In  every  generation 
there  are  developments  that  become  insoluble  mysteries  to 
the  people  of  any  other  period  of  time. 

Much  of  the  meaning  of  the  drama  of  Elizabeth's  age  is 
therefore  undoubtedly  lost  to  us  forever;  but  Shakespeare 
at  least  has  left  a  monument  in  which  the  stuff  of  immortality 
is  visible  in  every  course  of  the  building.  At  the  same  time, 
if  we  are  able  to  pick  up  a  fragment  now  and  then  of  the 
ephemeral  among  its  massive  stones,  with  strong  probability 
that  we  are  making  a  correct  guess  as  to  how  such  fragments 
found  places  there,  we  naturally  have  a  feeling  of  pleasurable 
gratification  at  the  supposed  discovery. 

That  there  are  such  fragments  to  be  found  in  the  text  of 

the  Divine  Weeks  as  set  forth  in  this  volume  I  think  will  be 

xvii 


evident  to  any  fairly  attentive  reader.  If  this  is  the  case, 
it  constitutes  a  valid  reason  why  these  and  other  works  of 
Sylvester  should  receive  more  respectful  consideration  than 
has  been  awarded  them  in  public,  at  any  rate,  for  the  two 
centuries  last  past. 

Hudibras  Butler  and  Turncoat  Dryden  made  it  an  essen- 
tial part  of  their  literary  business  to  curry  favor  with  the  sons 
of  the  first  Charles  Stuart,  and  one  of  their  methods  was  tc 
abuse  all  the  poets  of  the  puritan  party  as  well  as  Independ- 
ents and  Presbyterians,  including  some  of  their  predeces- 
sors whose  verses  are  just  now  in  the  2Oth  century  coming 
to  the  front  again  after  a  longer  sleep  that  that  of  the  en- 
chanted princess  in  Tennyson's  "Day  Dream."  As  Sylves- 
ter was  the  most  conspicuous  of  them  all,  the  poetical  panders 
discreetly  poured  upon  him  the  vilest  dregs  of  their  contempt 
while  seizing  many  of  his  expressions  for  their  own  use. 
Their  efforts  were  in  high  degree  successful,  so  far  as  the 
depreciation  of  Sylvester  and  his  coadjutors  was  concerned, 
and  Wycherly  and  Dryden  in  drama,  and  Dryden,  Butler 
and  a  mob  of  their  followers  in  didactic,  satiric  and  narrative 
verse  took  the  places  that  had  been  occupied  by  better  men, 
though  for  the  most  part  religiously  inclined,  at  the  begin- 
ning of  the  century.  Milton's  poetical  efforts  preceding  the 
Paradise  Lost  and  including  such  masterpieces  as  Comus, 
Lycidas,  L' Allegro,  II  Penseroso  and  the  rest  were  wholly 
ignored  by  the  Restoration  group,  who  thought  such  things 
beneath  even  unfriendly  notice. 

Sylvester  and  his  religious  friends 'were  narrow  minded, 
without  any  doubt,  but  honestly  so.  They  would  not  deign 
to  read  the  text  of  the  plays  performed  in  theaters  any  more 
than  the  leaders  of  "holiness"  organizations  now  would  de- 
vote their  leisure  moments  to  the  perusal  of  the  "yellow" 
newspapers  that  make  daily  evening  and  morning  appear- 
ances on  the  streets  of  all  of  our  large  cities,  and  on  those  of 

xviii 


most  of  the  smaller  towns.  Perhaps  the  insertion  here  of  a 
few  lines  from  an  original  poem  of  Sylvester's  on  the  subject 
of  tobacco  will  indicate  clearly  enough  the  strength  of  detes- 
tation with  which  he  regarded  attendance  at  theaters.  Of 
the  weed  he  says : 

It  best  becomes  a  stage  or  else  a  stews, 
Or  dicing-house  where  all  disorders  use. 
It  ill  becomes  a  college,  church  or  court, 
Or  any  place  of  any  civil  sort. 
It  fits  blasphemers,  Russians,  atheists,  etc. 

There  was  one  aspect,  however,  in  which  Shakespeare  had 
to  be  noticed,  even  by  so  rigid  a  puritan  as  his  "silver- 
tongued"  contemporary.  In  the  year  1593  there  was  an 
epidemic  of  the  plague  in  London  of  so  severe  a  character 
that  the  authorities  decided  to  take  all  available  measures 
for  the  prevention  of  large  gatherings  of  people  of  any 
kind,  and  among  other  orders  issued  one  for  the  closing  of 
all  theaters  within  their  jurisdiction.  This  deprived  Shake- 
speare of  his  ordinary  employment,  and  he  therefore  turned 
his  attention  to  composition  outside  of  the  drama.  His 
"Venus  and  Adonis"  was  the  first  fruit  of  his  endeavor  in  the 
new  direction  and  it  achieved  a  prompt  and  continuous  pop- 
ularity the  same  year  so  that  successive  editions  of  the  poem 
appeared  in  1594,  1596,  1599  and  1600.  The  "Rape  of 
Lucrece"  was  published  in  1594  and  was  also  received  by  the 
London  public  with  wide  approval.  It  was  in  this  character 
of  an  "heir  of  Ovid",  therefore,  that  he  was  entreated  in  the 
English  version  of  the  Divine  Weeks,  along  with  other  poets 
of  like  proclivities,  to  turn  his  pen  to  the  service  of  God, 
instead  of  "charming  senses,  chaining  souls  in  hell."  (Adam, 
ist  interpolation.) 

My  object  in  giving  so  much  space  to  Shakespearean  re- 
lations is  to  make  it  clearly  apparent,  if  possible,  that  in  any 
case  where  it  seems  evident  that  one  of  the  two  writers  ap- 
propriated words,  phrases  or  sentences  from  the  other,  it  is 
in  the  highest  degree  improbable  that  Sylvester  was  the  bor- 


rower.  A  very  strong  corroboration  of  this  view  is  to  be 
found  in  the  fact  that  none  of  Shakespeare's  plays  was  print- 
ed before  the  year  1 597,  and  only  three  of  them — Romeo  and 
Juliet,  Richard  II  and  Richard  III — during  that  year,  while 
the  volume  which  purported  to>  be  a  complete  transla- 
tion of  Du  Bartas's  biblical  poem  was  given  to  the  public 
by  Sylvester  in  1 598 ;  and  some  parts  of  it  had  been  printed 
as  early  as  1592,  others  in  1596.  As  a  general  statement 
it  may  be  said  that  in  no  instance  of  parallel  passages  of 
Shakespeare  and  Sylvester  cited  in  the  notes  herein  was  the 
drama  quoted  from  printed  before  the  other. 

There  is,  then,  occasion  for  a  feeling  of  interest  in  the 
poems  now  first  published  for  general  circulation  since 
Charles  I  began  his  war  against  parliament,  because  the 
greatest  literary  genius  of  all  recorded  time  did  not  disdain 
to  read  them  and  to  make  use  of  them  as  he  thought  proper ; 
but  such  a  feeling  should  be  intensified  by  the  knowledge 
that  to  Milton  as  a  child  they  became  what  it  is  hardly  an 
exaggeration  to  call  an  integral  part  of  his  intellectual  and 
emotional  life.  Shakespeare  used  them  as  the  editorial  writ- 
ers of  New  York  dailies  now  use  Tennyson  and  Longfellow 
— because  of  their  convenience.  Milton  exhibited  their 
spirit  because  his  own  was  pervaded  by  it. 

At  fifteen  years  of  age  the  boy  wrote  a  paraphrase  of  the 
H4th  Psalm  which  his  most  distinguished  biographer,  Pro- 
fessor Masson,  pronounced  to  be  so  close  an  imitation  of  Syl- 
vester that  it  might  easily  have  been  accepted  as  the  genuine 
work  of  that  author.  At  twenty-one  he  drew  a  picture  in 
the  1 5th  stanza  of  the  "Hymn"  in  the  "Ode  on  the  Morning 
of  Christ's  Nativity"  which  is  an  exact  description  of  the 
most  striking  features  of  the  full  page  cut  here  reproduced 
in  the  first  "Day"  of  the  Divine  Weeks.  In  all  Milton's 
poems  (except,  perhaps,  the  Paradise  Regained  and  Sam- 
son Agonistes,)  there  are  so  many  echoes  from  Sylvester 


as  to  leave  no  room  for  doubt  that  the  lines  of  the  elder 
poet  were  so  woven  into  the  fiber  of  his  own  nervous  sys- 
tem as  to  make  it  impossible  for  him  to  tear  them  out. 

The  now  current  calendar  year,  besides  being  the  ter- 
centenary of  Milton's  birth,  is  the  three  hundredth  anni- 
versary of  the  publication  of  the  second  quarto  edition  of 
Sylvester's  poems,  made  "more  complete,"  the  printer, 
Humfrey  Lownes,  said  in  his  address  to  the  reader,  by  an- 
nexing to  the  text  Thomas  Hudson's  translation  of  Judith, 
"perceiving  our  divine  Du  Bartas  so  generally  applauded, 
even  of  the  greatest  and  gravest  of  the  kingdom,  and  all 
his  works  so  welcome  to  all." 

The  printing  was  done  in  a  shop  in  Bread  street,  the 
short  thoroughfare  where  Milton's  father  had  his  residence 
and  place  of  business — and  which  led  from  Cheapside,  a 
little  east  of  St.  Paul's,  southerly  to  the  Thames.  If  the 
elder  Milton  had  not  been  one  of  those  whom  Printer 
Lownes  spoke  of  as  applauders  of  Du  Bartas,  Sylvester's 
quarto  could  not  have  been  made  so  familiar  to  the  son  as 
the  internal  evidence  of  Milton's  poetry  shows  that  it  was.1 
The  volume  was  probably  read  aloud  over  and  over  in  the 
family  before  the  lad  had  learned  to  read  for  himself,  and 
was  dwelt  upon  by  him  more  than  any  other  book  through 
all  the  impressible  years  of  his  boyhood  after  he  had  ac- 
quired the  art  of  reading.  The  "King  James"  version  of 
the  bible  was  printed  when  little  Milton  was  two  years 
old,  but  there  is  no  indication  in  his  published  works  that 
he  ever  absorbed  it  as  thoroughly  as  he  absorbed  the  mat- 
ter and  spirit  of  the  puritan's  translations  from  the  French. 
Spenser's  Faerie  Queene  was  also  printed  by  Lownes,  and 


iBy  way  of  example  of  the  effect  often  produced  upon  Milton's 
verse  by  memories  of  his  predecessor's,  the  following  quotation  from 
the  beginning  of  Paradise  Lost  is  presented  along  with  lines  from 

xxi 


must  have  influenced  the  tastes  of  Milton,  though  at  a  later 
period  of  his  youth. 

Psychologists  are  all  agreed,  I  believe,  on  the  proposi- 
tion that  impressions  received  in  childhood  and  apparently 


various  translations  of  Sylvester's  with   which  comparisons   of  form 
or  of  sentiment  may  be  made: 

If  Sion  hill 

Delight  thee  more,  and   Siloa's  brook  that  flowed 

Fast  by  the  oracle  of  God,  I  thence 

Invoke  thy  aid  to  my  adventurous  song, 

That  with  no  middle  flight  intends  to  soar 

Above    th'Aonian    mount 

Instruct  me,   for  Thou   know'st.     Thou   from   the  first 

Wast  present,  and  with  mighty  wings  outspread 

Dovelike  sat'st  brooding  o'er  the  vast  abyss 

And  mad'st  it  pregnant:     What  in  me  is  dark 

Illumine;    what  is  low  raise  and  support, 

That  to  the  height  of  this  great  argument 

I  may  assert  eternal  Providence. — Par.  Lost,  1,  10  et  seq. 

The  Isaacians  still, 

As  law  enjoined,   should  mount  on   Sion  hill 
To  sacrifice. — David. — Schism. 

He  falls  asleep  fast  by  a  silent  river. — Adam, — Eden. 

Mine  adventurous  rime 

Circling    the    world    may    search    out    every    clime. — Noah, — The 

[Colonies. 

Anon  I  sacred  to  the  Aonian  band 
My  country's  story. — Urania,  stanza  5. 

Grant  that  soaring  near  the  sky 
Among  our  authors   eagle-like   I   fly. — Adam. — The   Imposture. 

Eternal  issue  of  eternal  sire, 

Tell,  for  I  know  Thou  know'st;   for  compassed  ay 
With  fire  by  night,  and  with  a  cloud  by  day, 
Thou,  my  soul's  hope,  wert  their  sole  guide  and  guard. — Abra- 

Lham, — The  Law. 

Tell,  for  thou  know'st,  what  sacred  mystery 

Under  this  shadow  doth  in  secret  lie; — Abraham, — The  Fathers. 

Even  in  such  sort  seemed  the  Spirit  eternal 
To  brood  upon  this  gulf,  with  care  paternal 
Quickening   the   parts,   inspiring   power   in   each. — Building   the 

[World,— Day  1. 

Base  argument  a  base  style  ever  yields. — Urania,  Stanza  57. 
Lest  thou  be  at  fault  in  this  vast  argument. — Abraham, — The  Vocation. 

In  honor  of  these  gifts,  this  gift  I  bring 

Small  for  my  pains,  great  for  the  argument  -Triumph  of  Faith, — Dedi- 

[  cation, 
xxii 


forgotten  in  middle  age  are  likely  to  recur  to  the  mind  with 
all  their  original  force  in  the  decline  of  life,  and  on  the 
other  proposition  that  images  of  little  vividness  in  the  light 
of  day  are  often  far  more  apparent  to  the  mental  vision 
in  the  midst  of  surrounding  physical  darkness. 

It  is  claimed  that  the  former  of  these  propositions  is  so 
applicable  to  the  case  of  words  memorized  in  very  early  life 
that  even  the  unmeaning  formularies  used  in  "counting 
out"  for  childish  games  are  to  all  intents  and  purposes 
unforgettable,  and  many  believe  that  the  present  insane 
orthography  of  our  language  cannot  be  cured,  because  it 
is  learned  during  the  childhood  of  those  who  use  it,  and 
therefore  remains  fixed  in  their  minds. 

Probably  no  one  who  has  ever  suffered  from  unwel- 
come wakefulness  at  night  could  fail  to  remember  instances 
when  little  noises  made  by  the  wind  or  by  the  rubbing  of 
branches  of  trees  against  the  house  walls,  have  not  only 
magnified  themselves  inordinately,  but  have  sometimes 
brought  to  the  front  visions  of  burglars  or  worse. 

The  relations  between  Miton  and  the  writings  of  Syl- 
vester are  illustrative  of  both  the  tendencies  here  mentioned. 
His  early  poems  contain  ample  demonstrations  of  the  in- 
timate familiarity  of  the  little  boy  with  his  predecessor's 
verses,  and  also  of  his  boyish  habit  of  amplifying  and  ex- 
alting the  mental  pictures  so  obtained.  The  Paradise 
Lost  was  composed  in  his  old  age,  when  his  eyes,  with 
"dim  suffusion  veiled,"  could  "find  no  dawn;"  and  under 
such  conditions  the  earliest  recollections  of  words  and 
phrases  would  recur  to  him  naturally  with  the  insubstantial 
pageants  long  before  suggested  to  his  young  imagination. 
All  these  were  of  course  modified  by  his  maturer  judgment, 
but  there  is  enough  of  the  early  thought  remaining  to  af- 
ford an  interesting  subject  for  contemplation. 

The   frescoed  walls   of  the   Campo   Santo  at   Pisa,   says 

xxiii 


De  Musset,  are  not  very  interesting  in  themselves ;  but  they 
were  the  objects  of  Raphael's  early  studies,  and  are  there- 
fore regarded  with  reverence  by  admirers  of  the  great 
painter.  The  autograph  signatures  of  famous  men  are  es- 
teemed more  highly  than  fac  similes  because  of  the  closer 
personal  association  with  the  writers ;  and  even  the  Homeric 
poems,  important  as  they  are  intrinsically,  acquire  additional 
interest  from  the  fact  that  they  were  studied  by  Virgil, 
Horace,  Dante  and  many  other  great  poets  and  philoso- 
phers. A  like  association  of  Sylvester  with  succeeding  Eng- 
lish poets  is  almost  as  certain  as  that  with  Shakespeare  and 
Milton.  Gray  took  the  form  of  his  "Elegy"  from  "Memor- 
ials of  Mortality"  of  the  old  puritan,  a  quatrain  of  which 
is  copied  below  with  two  additional  lines  from  other  poems 
in  the  same  collection,  the  whole  to  be  read  with  reference 
to  the  ninth  stanza  of  the  "Elegy." 

And  that  ambition  which  affords  thee  wings 

To  seek  new   seas  beyond   our  ocean's  arms 

For  mounts  of  gold  and  pearls  and  precious  things, 

Shall  not  preserve  thy   carcass  from  the  worms. 

The  eye  of  Providence,  the  hand  of  power. 
Still,  still  repels  the  inevitable  stour. 

The  two  last  quoted  lines  are  from  Sylvester's  "Elegiac 
Epistle"  and  "Job  Triumphant"  respectively.  Other  in- 
stances are  mentioned  in  the  footnotes  of  this  volume; 
but  there  is  besides  an  aspect  in  which  the  Divine  Weeks 
should  be  expected  to  call  for  attention  from  Americans 
at  least.  The  author  died  two  years  before  the  Mayflower 
sailed  for  New  England,  and  his  poems  were  probably  the 
only  versified  productions  of  considerable  magnitude  which 
our  ancestors  of  the  seventeenth  century  brought  across 
the  Atlantic.  A  result  of  this  is  that  linguistic  peculiarities 
of  Sylvester  have  become  imbedded  in  American  colloquial 
speech  to  an  extent  that  is  very  noticeable.  Besides  the 
instances  cited  in  the  footnotes  further  on,  there  appear 


among  Sylvester's  verses  such  Americanisms  as — bear  the 
brunt,  lug,  rense,  hellhound,  peart,  afterclaps,  upside-down, 
wedges  and  beetles,  give  the  start,  grub  (for  dig  out), 
kiff  nor  kin,  scarecrows,  lets  fly,  his  cake  is  dough,  in  at  one 
ear  out  at  t'other,  truck,  yerk,  and  many  more. 

These  and  their  like  are  worth  looking  after;  but  of  yet 
greater  actual  importance  to  the  general  reader  having 
limited  leisure  is  the  condensed  panoramic  view  here  given 
of  the  theories  of  natural  science  prevalent  among  the 
learned  circles  of  Europe  at  the  close  of  the  sixteenth  cen- 
tury and  later,  up  to  the  time  when  Sir  Isaac  Newton  re- 
vealed the  innermost  secret  of  the  whirling  worlds  and  Sir 
Thomas  Browne  exposed  many  common  errors  by  bring- 
ing cool  observation  to  bear  upon  the  alleged  facts.  The 
credulity  of  the  earlier  age  was  of  a  character  so  amazing 
that  it  is  now  hard  to  understand  without  the  aid  of  some 
of  its  clearest  headed  writers,  and  there  is  no  other  that  I 
know  of  who  has  written  about  such  matters  so  intelligently, 
sympathetically  and  entertainingly  as  Du  Bartas. 

The  version  of  his  principal  poem  here  given  is  pruned 
somewhat,  (though  it  cannot  be  fairly  claimed  that  all  worth- 
less lines  are  cut  out,)  and  it  is  modernized  to  the  extent 
that  seemed  practicable  without  destroying  the  flavor  of 
Sylvestrian  expression.  That  is  to  say,  the  antique  spell- 
ing has  been  made  to  conform  to  present  usage  in  every 
instance  where  it  was  thought  that  the  change  would  not 
essentially  injure  the  rhythm  or  the  rhyme.  In  a  few  cases 
the  order  of  words  in  a  sentence  has  been  rearranged  for 
the  sake  of  euphony  or  of  easier  understanding  by  twen- 
tieth century  readers,  and  in  a  very  few  places  a  modern 
word  has  been  substituted  for  one  that  is  obsolete  or  has 
taken  on  an  offensive  meaning;  but  in  no  case  has  a  word 
so  eliminated  been  replaced  by  another  of  unusual  occur- 
rence. Whatever  is  uncommon  is  Sylvester's. 

XXV 


It  follows  that  the  text  has  not  been  edited  especially  for 
the  laudable  uses  of  minute  scholars  who  require  all  that  can 
be  found  of  any  subject  of  investigation ;  but  rather  with 
the  object  of  presenting-  Sylvester's  work  as  faithfully  as 
appears  consistent  with  the  controlling  intention  of  avoiding 
the  serious  danger  of  "that  tired  feeling"  among  its  intelli- 
gent readers;  and  it  is  believed  that  the  differences  to  be 
found  between  the  portions  of  the  Divine  Weeks  here  pro- 
duced and  the  same  portions  as  printed  in  Lownes's  quarto 
of  1613  are  not  greater  comparatively  than  the  differences 
between  the  text  of  a  modern  edition  of  Shakespeare  and 
that  of  the  now  familiar  folio  of  1623. 

As  regards  the  discretion  used  in  making  such  alterations 
as  have  been  made  here  in  the  original  text,  that  is  a  mat- 
ter for  future  judgment,  and  there  should  be  no  great  doubt 
bu.t  that  credit  or  discredit  will  be  finally  accorded  as  de- 
served. There  is  at  any  rate  no  such  violent  emendation  as 
that  of  Theobald  in  substituting  in  the  text  of  Mrs.  Quick- 
ly's  story  of  Falstaff  s  death  a  sentence  that  could  not  pos- 
sibly have  been  written  by  Shakespeare  himself. 

It  is  the  earnest  hope  of  the  editor  of  the  present  volume 
that  its  perusal  will  tend  to  promote  the  study  of  Milton's 
verse — the  stateliest  that  was  ever  written  by  man — and 
that  such  study  will  tend  to  a  more  thorough  examination 
of  the  whole  of  the  work  of  his  humbler  predecessor,  to  the 
benefit  of  all  lovers  of  English  literature. 

As  a  beginning  in  this  direction  there  is  no  reason  why  he 
should  not  be  permitted  to  appear  in  other  aspects  at 
this  time,  if  his  appearance  is  to  be  tolerated  at  all.  Some 
of  his  earlier  and  later  poems  have  therefore  been  made  to 
follow  the  abridgment  of  the  Divine  Weeks  which  is  the  main 
feature  of  the  present  publication.  These  are  gathered  in 
an  appendix  that  will  not,  it  is  hoped,  be  found  less  interest- 
ing than  the  translation  upon  which  Sylvester  based  his  own 
claim  to  public  attention. 

xxvi 


Of  these  verses  a  part  have  been  chosen  with  the  view  of 
showing  the  origin  of  sundry  expressions  employed  by  later 
poets;  and  others,  as  illustrations  of  the  personal  experience 
of  Sylvester  himself.  His  first  "Epistle"  to  his  friend; 
Nicolson,  is  especially  informing  as  to  the  individuality  of 
the  writer,  and  when  taken  in  connection  with  the  eulogy 
by  Vicars,  throws  more  light  upon  this  point  than  is  to  be 
obtained  elsewhere. 

His  amatory  effusions,  (only  a  few  of  which  are  used  here,) 
are  apparently  productions  of  an  early  stage  of  life,  and  par- 
take of  the  general  character  of  such  verses  in  Elizabethan 
times — not  particularly  better  or  worse.  He  says  of  one: 

My  chief  desire 

Was  for  the  dam  to  damn  her  to  the  fire 
Lest,  if  she  should  outlive  me,  she  defame 
My  lineal  heirs,  and  scandalize  my  name. 

Sylvester's  exercises  in  elegiac  poetry  abound  in  the 
old  folios,  but  they  are  not  given  places  in  this  collection, 
because  they  do  not  strike  me  as  worth  reprinting.  In  this 
opinion  I  may  be  as  badly  deceived  as  Dr.  Samuel  Johnson 
was  in  respect  of  Lycidas.  If  he  had  a  dog  that  would  read 
Lycidas  a  second  time,  he  declared,  he  would  have  the  ani- 
mal killed.  For  the  present,  however,  the  elegies,  touching 
the  deaths  of  neighbors,  of  warriors  and  of  royalties,  must 
be  permitted  to  rest  in  peace. 

The  "Hebrew  Courtship"  is  a  translation  from  DuBartas, 
and  is  reproduced  on  account  of  the  similarity  apparent  be- 
tween some  of  its  lines  and  some  of  those  of  Shelley,  "To 
an  Indian  Air."  "Virtue's  her  own  reward"  is  a  catch- 
phrase  of  Sylvester's.  Many  writers,  beginning  with  Dry- 
den,  have  since  used  it  or  something  essentially  the  same, 
in  their  own  works  and  always  without  credit. 

Such  treatment  is  not  at  all  fair,  and  it  is  because  I  think 
so  that  this  compilation  has  been  made.  The  translator  of 
the  Divine  Weeks  certainly  did  a  good  deal  of  valuable  work 
for  the  benefit  of  English  literature,  and  the  notes  and  com- 


ments  found  here  are  intended  to  bring  as  much  of  it  to 
the  light  of  day  as  is  practicable  within  the  limits  decided 
on.  For  the  accomplishment  of  the  purpose  it  has  been 
considered  best  to  make  the  volume  rather  readable  than 
profoundly  learned.  No  more  original  writing  of  the  pres- 
ent appears  in  its  pages  than  has  seemed  absolutely  necessary 
for  the  attainment  of  the  results  mentioned  above. 

But  in  addition  to  what  I  have  had  to  say,  it  seems 
proper  that  readers  should  know  something  of  the  estima- 
tion in  which  these  poems  have  been  held  by  other  writers, 
and  a  few  lines  have  therefore  been  taken  from  each  of  a 
large  number  of  laudatory  and  other  pieces  by  contempor- 
aneous and  later  authors,  and  placed  before  the  poet's  own 
text.  The  first  selection  is  from  a  dedication  to  Sylvester 
of  one  of  Drayton's  works.  Those  following,  as  far  as  the 
last  Latin  lines  inclusive,  are  excerpts  from  the  commenda- 
tory verses  in  the  edition  of  Sylvester  published  in  1608, 
and  retained  in  the  succeeding  quartos  and  folios. 

COMMENDATIONS  AND  CONDEMNATIONS 

Sallust,  to  thee  and  Sylvester,  thy  friend, 
Comes  my  high  poem,  peaceably  and  chaste, 

Your  hallowed  labors  humbly  to  attend, 

That  wreckful  Time  shall  not  have  power  to  waste. 

— Michael  Drayton. 

I  dare  confess ;  of  muses  more  than  nine 
Nor  list  nor  can  I  envy  none  but  thine. 

— Bishop  Joseph  Hall. 

We  may  boast 
Much  to  have  won,  and  others  nothing  lost 

By  taking  such  a  famous  prize  away, 
As  thou,  industrious  Sylvester,  hast  wrought 

And  hast  enriched  us  with  th'immortal  store 
Of  others'  sacred  lines,  which  from  them  brought, 
Comes  by  thy  taking,   greater  than  before. 

— Samuel  Daniel. 


A  true  interpreter, 

Whom  fame  nor  gain,  but  love  of  heaven  and  us 
Moved  to  un-French  his  learned  labors  thus: 
Thus  loves,  thus  lives,  all-loved  Sylvester. 

— G.  Gay- Wood. 

Bartas  doth  wish  thy  English  now  were  his; 
So  well  in  that  are  his  inventions  wrought, 
As  his  will  now  be  the  translations  thought, 

Thine  the  original. 

— Ben  Johson. 

Achilles'  fame  with  him  had  been  interred, 

Had  Homer's  lines  not  tied  it  to  the  stars; 
And  of  Aeneas  had  we  never  heard, 

Had  Virgil's  strains  not  been  his  trumpeters.       .     . 
Laura  had  ne'er  so  greenly  grown  above 

Her  peers  as  now  she  doth  to  aftertimes, 
Had  she  not  had  a  Petrarch  to  her  love, 

Which  made  her  mount  with  nectar-dripping  rimes.  .  . 
And  Josuah,  the  sun  of  thy  bright  praise 

Shall  fixed  stand  in  Art's  fair  firmament 
Till  dissolution  date  Time's  nights  and  days, 

Since  right  thy  lines  are  made  to  Bartas'  bent. 

— John  Davies  of  Hereford. 

Let  not  thy  fairest,  heaven-aspiring  muse 
Disdain  these  humble  notes  of  my  affection; 

My  faulty  lines  let  faithful  love  excuse, 

Since  my  defects  shall  add  to  thy  perfection. 

— E.  G.  (Guilpin?) 

So  while  Du  Bartas  and  our  Sylvester, 

The  glorious  lights  of  England  and  of  France, 

Had  hid  their  beams,  each  glow-worm  durst  prefer 
His   feeble   glimpse   of  glimmering  radiance; 

But  now  these  suns  begin  to  gild  the  day, 

Those  twinkling  sparks  are  soon  dispersed  away. 

— R.  H.  (Robert  Hasill?) 

My  busy  fantasy 

Bade  me  awake,  open  my  eyes  and  see 
How  Salust's  English  sun,  our  Sylvester, 
Makes  moon  and  stars  to  veil. 

— R.  R.  (Richard  Rous?) 

xxix 


Shall  not  Du  Bartas,  poets'  pride  and  glory, 

In  after  ages  be  with  wonder  heard, 
Lively  recording  th'universal  story? 

Undoubtedly  he  shall,  and  so  shalt  them, 
Ear-charming  echo  of  his   sacred  voice. 

— R.  N.,  Gent.  (Robert  Nicolson?) 

Ut  prodesse  suis  possit,  Salustius  offert 
Gallis  quod  nobis  Josua  noster,   opus; 

Ille  ergo  eximiis  hoc  uno  nomine  dignus 
Laudibus. 

— Jo.  Bo.,  Miles.  (John  Bodenham?) 

Non  translata  mini,  sed  genuina  canis, 
Quin  et  posteritas,  si  pagina  prima  taceret, 
Interpres  dubitet  tu  ne  vel  ille  sit. 

— Car:   Fitz-Geofridus    Lati-Portensis. 

(Fitzgeffrey  entered  Broadgate  Hall  at  seventeen  years 
old,  in  1592.  He  was  later  a  clergyman  and  wrote  English 
poetry  of  good  repute.  See  Collier's  Poetical  Decameron, 
Chapter  i.) 

Quod  Gallus  factus  modo  sit,  mirare,  Britannus, 
Galle?  No'Vum  videas,  nee  tamen  invideas: 

Sylvester  vester,  noster  Bartassius,  ambo 

Laude  quidem  gemina  digni,  ut  et  ambo  pari. 

— E.  L.,  Oxon.  (Edw.  Lewicke?) 

Carmina  Bartasi  Sylvester  carmine  vertit, 
Et,  si  successu  non  meliore,  pari. 

Jo:  Mauldeus  Germanus. 

Coelum  percuriat  Gallia  vertice, 
Ipso  coelicolas  terra  Britannica, 

Quae  vates  tulerint  duos 

Claros   prae  reliquis  novos. 

— G.  B.,  Cantabrig. 

Musa  tua  est  Bartas  dulcissima;  Musa  videtur 
Ipsa  tamen  no-stri,  dulcior  esse  mihi. 

— Si.  Ca.,  Gent. 

Behold  the  man  whose  words  and  works  were  one, 
Whose  life  and  labors  have  few  equals  known; 
Whose  sacred  lays  his  brows  with  bays  have  bound, 
And  him  his  age's  poet-laureate  crowned ; 


Whom  envy  scarce  could  hate;  whom  all  admired, 
Who  lived  beloved  and  a  saint  expired. 

— John  Vicars 

Thou  that  with  ale  or  viler  liquors 
Didst  inspire  Withers,  Pryn  and  Vicars, 

Who,       

With  vanity,  opinion,  want, 
The  wonder  of  the  ignorant. 
The  praises  of  the  author  penned 
By'mself  or  wit-insuring  friend; 
The  itch  of  picture  in  the  front, 
With  bays  and  wicked  rime  upon't — 
All  that  is  left  o'  th'  forked  hill 
To  make  men  scribble  without  skill — 
Canst  make  a  poet  spite  of  fate, 
And  teach  all  people  to  translate, 
Though  out  of  languages  in  which 
They  understood  no  part  of  speech. 

— Butler's  Hudibras,  I,  i,  653. 

I  remember  when  I  was  a  boy  I  thought  inimitable  Spen- 
ser a  mean  poet  in  comparison  of  Sylvester's  Du  Bartas,  and 

was  rapt  in  ecstasy  when  I  read  these  lines 

I  am  much  deceived  now  if  this  be  not  abominable  fustian. 
— Dryden,  Preface  to  "Spanish  Friar." 

But  I  will  sweeten  this  discourse  also  out  of  a  contempla- 
tion in  Divine  Du  Bartas  in  the  Fifth  Day. — Walton's  Com- 
plete Angler. 

To  which  purpose  divine  Du  Bartas,  that  noble  poet, 
brings  in  our  father  Adam,  speaking  of  those  ages  thus, 
as  in  the  sound  of  Sylvester  we  have  it. — John  Swan's 
Speculum  Mundi. 

Home  and  to  bed  with  some  pain,  having  taken  cold 
this  morning  in  sitting  too  long  bare-legged  to  pare  my 
corns.  My  wife  and  I  spent  a  good  deal  of  this  evening 
reading  Du  Bartas'  "Imposture,"  and  other  parts,  which 
my  wife  of  late  has  taken  up  to  read — and  is  very  fine,  as 
anything  I  meet  with. — Pepys'  Diary,  Nov.  2,  1662. 

Ronsard,  Du  Bellay,  Du  Bartas,  and  Des  Portes  in  the 
last  age  were  the  admiration  of  all  the  world,  and  now  no- 
body will  read  them. — Boileau's  Reflections  on  Longinus. 

xxxi 


Sylvester's  language  is  at  times  admirably  condensed,  and 
it  abounds  in  passages  which,  I  conceive,  cannot  but  claim 
our  most  unbounded  admiration,  and  which,  I  firmly  believe, 
made  a  forcible  appeal  to  the  finely  tuned  ear  of  Milton. — 
Charles  Dunster. 

Such  are  the  occasional  strength,  energy  and  harmony 
of  certain  portions  of  this  old  version  that  it  is  probable, 
had  Sylvester  been  more  fortunate  in  the  choice  of  his  orig- 
inal, he  had  in  a  great  measure  been  exempt  from  the  num- 
erous faults  which  now  disgrace  his  composition. — Dr. 
Drake's  "Literary  Hours." 

The  divine  Du  Bartas  as  rendered  by  the  not  less  divine 
Sylvester. — Southey's  "The  Doctor,  &c." 

Of  late,  partly  on  Milton's  account,  the  interest  in  Syl- 
vester has  somewhat  revived ;  and  such  recent  English  critics 
as  can  relish  poetry  under  an  uncouth  guise  find  much  to 
like  in  Sylvester's  Du  Bartas,  just  as  some  recent  foreign 
critics,  Goethe  among  them,  have  found  a  good  deal  to  ad- 
mire, even  yet,  in  the  French  original. 

— Masson's  Life  of  Milton. 

The  Divine  Weeks  and  Works,  whether  in  Du  Bartas's 
French  or  Sylvester's  English,  has  now  become  intolerably 
tedious  and  unattractive ;  but  the  translator,  had  he  con- 
centrated his  powers  on  a  happier  object,  might  have  en- 
riched the  language. 

— Garnet  &  Gosse,  Eng.  Lit.  (An  echo  of  Drake.) 

No  publication  of  the  era  was  more  successful  than  that 
one,  for  in  a  very  few  years  thirty  editions  were  sold,  issuing 
from  Rouen,  Lyons  and  Geneva  as  well  as  Paris.  The 
illustrious  Goethe  held  La  Sepmaine  in  high  esteem,  finding 
it  worthy  of  occupying  a  place  on  the  same  shelf  with  the 
most  honored  productions  of  the  French  muse.  Unfortu- 
nately this  favorable  judgment  does  not  commend  itself  to 
the  French  critics,  who  look  on  Du  Bartas  as  deplorably 
lacking  in  taste,  although  endowed  with  lofty  sentiment 
along  with  a  certain  poetic  exaltation  of  spirit. 

— Brunet's  Manuel  du  Libraire. 


HIS 

J),'iiiiic  \Vccke s  ///? 


^^^Stf^Ffi^  ; 


Reprodudion  of  Title-Page,  (slightly  reduced)  from  the  Edition  of  1611. 


Milton  at  Ten  Years  of  A 


THE    DIVINE  WEEKS 


PART  I.~BUILDING  THE  WORLD 


THE  FIRST  DAY 


Thou  glorious  Guide  of  Heaven's  star-glistering  motion, 
True  Neptune  thou,  the  Tamer  of  the  ocean, 
The  earth's  dread  Shaker,  at  whose  only  word 
Th'^Eolian  scouts  are  quickly  stilled  or  stirred — 
Lift  up  my  soul;  my  drossy1  spirits2  refine; 
With  learned  art  enrich  this  work  of  mine. 

O,  Father,  grant  I  sweetly  warble  forth3 
Unto  our  seed  the  world's  renowned  birth. 
Grant,  gracious  God,  that  I  record  in  verse 
The  rarest  beauties  of  the  universe ; 
And  grant  Thy  power  I  may  therein  discern, 


iThis  word  is  printed  "drousie"  in  the  folios,  but  the  reading 
of  the  quartos  as  here  given  is  evidently  correct. 

2The  word  "spirit"  is  most  commonly  made  a  monosyllable  by 
verse  makers  of  three  centuries  ago,  and  often  by  Milton.  The  first 
vowel  in  the  word  seems  to  have  been  suppressed  in  pronunciation. 

SThis  phrase  approved  itself  to  Milton  in  his  16th  year  so  that 
he  wrote  in  his  version  of  the  136th  Psalm,  "Let  us  therefore  warble 
forth,"  etc.  Sylvester  pictures  King  David  in  a  later  poem  as  "shrill- 
sweetly  warbling  forth." 


2  BUILDING  THE  WORLD. 

That,  teaching  others,  I  myself  may  learn.4     .     . 

In  sacred  sheets  of  either  Testament 
'Tis  hard  to  find  a  higher  argument, 
More  deep  to  sound,  more  busy  to  discuss, 
More  useful  known,  unknown  more  dangerous. 
So  bright  a  sun  dazzles  my  tender  sight ; 
So  deep  discourse  my  sense  confoundeth  quite; 
My  reason's  edge  is  dulled  in  this  dispute, 
And  in  my  mouth   my  fainting  words  be  mute. 

This  Trinity  (which  rather  I  adore 
In  humbleness  than  busily  explore,) 
In  th'  infinite  of  nothing  builded  all 
This  artificial,  great,  rich,  glorious  ball, 
Wherein  appears,  engraven  on  every  part, 
The  Builder's  beauty,  greatness,  wealth  and  art, 
Art,  beauty,  wealth  and  greatness  that  confounds 
The  hellish  barking  of  blaspheming  hounds. 

Climb  they  that  list  the  battlements  of  Heaven, 
And  by  the  whirlwind  of  ambition  driven, 
Beyond  the  world's  walls  let  those  eagles  fly, 
And  gaze  upon  the  Sun  of  majesty. 
Let  other  some,  whose  fainting  spirits  droop, 
Down  to  the  ground  their  meditations  stoop, 
And  so  contemplate  on  these  workmanships 
That  th'  Author's  praise  they  in  their  own  eclipse. 

My  heedful  muse,  trained  in  true  religion, 
Divinely  human,  keeps  the  middle  region,5 
Lest,  if  she  should  too  high  a  pitch  presume, 
Heaven's  glowing  flame  should  melt  her  waxen  plume, 


4The  omission  here  is  of  lines  relating  to  possible  conditions  be- 
fore the  terrestrial  creation,  a  summary  of  which  is  condensed  into 
one  of  the  couplets,  namely: 

Before  all  time,  all  matter,  form  and  place, 
God  all  in  all,  and  all  in  God  it  was. 
Which  recalls  Emily  Bronte's  stanza:  — 

"Though  earth  and  man  were  gone, 

And  suns  and  universes  ceased  to  be, 
And  Thou  wert  left  alone, 

Every  existence  would  exist  in  Thee." 
SCompare  Paradise  Lost,  I,  14. 


THE  FIRST  DAY. 

Or  if  too  low,  near  earth  or  sea  she  flag, 
Laden  with  mists  her  moisted  wings  should  lag. 

It  glads  me  much  to  view  this  frame,6  wherein 
As  in  a  glass  God's  glorious  face7  is  seen. 
I  love  to  look  on  God — but  in  this  robe 
Of  His  great  works,  this  universal  globe. 
For  if  the  sun's  bright  beams  do  blear  the  sight 
Of  such  as  fixtly  gaze  against  his  light, 
Who  can  behold  the  empyreal  skies, 
The  lightning  splendor  of  God's  glorious  eyes? 
O,  who  can  ever  find  the  Lord  without 
His  works,  which  bear  His  image  round  about? 
God,  of  Himself  incapable  to  sense, 
In  works  revealed  to1  our  intelligence — 
Therein  our  fingers  feel,  our  nostrils  smell, 
Our  palates  taste  His  virtues  that  excel. 
Before  our  eyes  He  moves,  speaks  to  our  ears, 
In  th'ordered  motions  of  the  spangled  spheres.8     . 

The  world's  a  stage,  where  God's  omnipotence, 
His  justice,  knowledge,  love  and  providence 
Do  act  their  parts,  contending  in  their  kinds 
Above  the  heavens  to  ravish  dullest  minds. 

The  world's  a  book  in  folio,  printed  all 
With  God's  great  works  in  letters  capital. 
Each  creature  is  a  page,  and  each  effect 
A  fair  character,  void  of  all  defect. 
But  as  young  truants,  toying  in  a  school, 
Instead  of  learning,  learn  to  play  the  fool, 
We  gaze  but  on  the  babies  and  the  cover,9 


6"Frame"  is  often  used  in  the  sense  of  "structure"  by  Milton 
and  his  predecessors. 

"Compare  Byron's  apostrophe  to  the  ocean  in  Childe  Harold's 
Pilgrimage,  IV,  183. 

8"Leaders  are  used  in  this  and  following  instances  to  indicate 
omissions  of  one  or  more  couplets,  believed  to  be  unnecessary  for 
the  general  reader,  if  not  entirely  superfluous. 

9The  cherubic  images  embossed  upon  elaborate  bindings  of 
ancient  books  are  spoken  of  in  this  place  as  "babies."  Du  Bartas's 
own  words,  in  the  original,  are: 

— les  marges  peintures 

Son  cuir  fleurdelizg,  et  ses  bors  surdorgs. 


BUILDING  THE  WORLD. 

The  gaudy  flowers  and  edges  gilded  over; 
And  never  farther  for  our  lesson  look 
Within  the  volume  of  this  various  book, 
Where  learned  Nature  rudest  ones  instructs 
That  by  His  wisdom  God  the  world  conducts. 

Nothing — but  nothing — had  the  Lord  almighty 
Whereof,  wherewith,  whereby  to  build  this  city; 
Yet  when  He  heaven,  air,  earth  and  sea  did  frame, 
He  sought  not  far,  and  sweat  not  for  the  same. 
As  Sol,  without  descending  from  the  sky 
Crowns  the  fair  Spring  with  painted10  bravery — 
Withouten  travail  causeth  earth  to  bear, 
And,  far  off,  makes  the  world  young  every  year — 
The  power  and  will,  th'  affection  and  effect, 
The  work  and  project  of  this  Architect 
March  all  at  once;  all  to  His  pleasure  ranges, 
Who,  always  One,  His  purpose  never  changes. 

Yet  did  this  nothing  not  at  once  receive 
Matter  and  form ;  for,  as  we  may  perceive 
That  he  who  means  to  build  a  warlike  fleet 
Makes  first  provision  of  all  matter  meet, 
As  timber,  iron,  canvas,  cord  and  pitch, 
And  when  all's  ready,  then  appointeth  which 
Shall  serve  for  plank,  which  plank  shall  line  the  waist, 
The  poop,  the  prow;  which  fir  shall  make  a  mast, 
As  art  and  use  directeth  needfully 
His  hand,  his  tool,  his  judgment  and  his  eye; 
So  God,  before  this  frame  He  fashioned, 
I  wot  not  what  great  word  He  uttered, 
Which  summoned  all  together  in  a  mass 
Whats'ever  now  the  heavens'  wide  arms  embrace. 
But  where  the  shipwright  for  his  gainful  trade 
Finds  all  his  stuff  to  hand  already  made, 
Th'  Almighty  makes  His,  all  and  every  part, 
Without  the  help  of  others'  wit  or  art. 


lOShakespeare  uses  the  verb  "paint"  in  like  sense  in  sc.  1,  act 
V.,  of  Love's  Labor's  Lost.  The  play  was  of  later  date  than  this  part 
of  the  poem,  but  this  verbal  use  may  have  been  of  still  earlier  occur- 
rence. 


THE  FIRST  DAY.  5 

The  first  world  yet  was  a  most  formless  form, 
A  confused  heap,  a  chaos  most  deform, 
A  gulf  of  gulfs,  a  body  ill  compact, 
An  ugly  medley,  where  all  difference  lacked, 
Where  th'  elements  lay  jumbled  all  together, 
Where  hot  and  cold  were  jarring  with  each  other — 
The  blunt  with  sharp,  the  base  against  the  high, 
Bitter  with  sweet ;  and  while  this  brawl11  did  last, 
The  earth  in  heaven,  the  heaven  in  earth  was  placed;12 
Earth,  air  and  fire  were  with  the  water  mixt; 
Water,  earth,  air  within  the  fire  were  fixt; 
Fire,  water,  earth  did  in  the  air  abide ; 
Air,  fire  and  water  in  the  earth  did  hide. 
For  yet  the  immortal,  mighty  Thunder  Darter, 
The  Lord  High  Marshal,  unto  each  his  quarter 
Had  not  assigned;  the  celestial  arcs 
Were  not  yet  spangled  with  their  fiery  sparks. 
As  yet  no  flowers  with  odors  earth  revived; 
No  scaly  shoals  yet  in  the  waters  dived, 
Nor  any  birds  with  warbling  harmony 
Were  borne  as  yet  through  the  transparent  sky. 

All  was  then  void  of  beauty,  rule  and  light, 
All  without  fashion,  soul  and  motion,  quite; 
Fire  was  no  fire  and  water  was  no  water, 
Air  w&s  not  air,  the  earth  no  earthy  matter; 
Or,  if  one  could,  in  such  a  world  spy  forth 
The  fire,  the  air,  the  water  and  the  earth, 
Th'earth  was  not  firm,  the  fire  was  not  hot, 
Th'air  was  not  light,  the  water  cooled  not. 
Briefly,  suppose  an  earth  poor,  naked,  vain, 


ii"Brawl"  is  the  French  "Bransle,"  a  kind  of  dance  in  which 
the  figures  were  especially  intricate. 

l2What  Du  Bartas  (and  Milton  later)  called  "the  world" 
comprised  not  the  earth  with  only  its  immediate  surroundings;  but 
outside  of  the  globe,  made  up  of  four  "elements" — earth,  water,  air 
and  clear  fire — were  included  the  several  spheres  in  which  the  plan- 
ets, the  sun  and  the  moon,  were  supposed  to  be  respectively  placed, 
and  two  spheres  still  farther  away,  by  which  the  motions  of  the  plan- 
etary spheres  were  regulated  as  machinery  by  the  use  of  balance 
wheels. 


BUILDING  THE  WORLD. 

All  void  of  verdure,  without  hill  or  plain, 

A  heaven  unhanged,  unturning,  untransparent,13 

Ungarnished  and  ungilt  with  stars  apparent; 

So  may'st  thou  guess  what  heaven  and  earth  was  that 

Where  in  confusion  reigned  such  debate; 

A  heaven  and  earth  for  my  base  style  most  fit — 

Not  as  they  were,  but  as  they  were  not,  yet.     .     . 

The  dreadful   darkness  of  the   Memphitists,14 
The  sad,  black  horror  of  Cimmerian  mists, 
The  sable  fumes  of  hell's  infernal  vault, 
Or  if  aught  darker  in  the  world  be  thought, 
Muffled  the  face  of  that  profound  abyss, 
Full  of  disorders  and  fell  mutinies; 
So  that,  in  fine,  this  furious  debate 
Even  in  the  birth  this  ball  had  ruinate, 
Save  that  the  Lord  into  the  pile  did  pour 
Some  secret  mastic  of  His  sacred  power, 
To  glue  together  and  to  govern  fair 
The  heaven  and  earth,  the  ocean  and  the  air, 
Which,  jointly  jostling,  in  their  rude  disorder, 
The  new  born  Nature  went  about  to  murder. 

As  a  good  wit15  that  on  the  immortal  shrine 
Of  memory  engraves  a  work  divine, 
Abroad,  abed,  at  board,  forever  uses 
To  mind  his  theme,  and  on  his  book  still  muses, 
So  did  God's  spirit  delight  itself  a  space 
To  move  itself  upon  the  floating  mass, 
No  other  care  th'  Almighty's  mind  possessed — 
If  care  can  enter  in  His  sacred  breast — 
Or  as  a  hen  that  fain  would  hatch  a  brood, 
Some  of  her  own,  some  of  adoptive  blood, 
Sits  close  thereon,  and  with  her  lively  heat, 


iSThe  hanging  of  the  sky  and  its  turning  movement  were  nec- 
essary to  the  scheme  of  the  universe  accepted  three  centuries  ago 
by  most  reputable  scholars  and  thinkers,  including  Francis  Bacon. 

i4The  Egyptians;  so  called  from  Memphis,  the  former  capital 
of  Egypt. 

isit  is  perhaps  needless  to  say  that  by  "a  wit"  was  meant  in 
Sylvester's  day  a  person  of  unusual  mental  ability. 


THE  FIRST  DAY.  7 

Of  yellow-white  balls  doth  live  birds  beget ; 
Even  in  such  sort  seemed  the  Spirit  eternal 
To  brood  upon  this  gulf;16  with  care  paternal 
Quick'ning  the  parts,  inspiring  power  in  each, 
From  so  foul  lees  so  fair  a  world  to  fetch. 

Now,  though  the  great  duke17  that  in  dreadful  awe 
Upon  Mount  Horeb  learned  the  eternal  law, 
Had  not  assured  us  that  God's  sacred  power 
In  six  days  built  this  universal  bower, 
Reason  itself  doth  overthrow  the  grounds 
Of  those  new  worlds  that  fond  Leucippus  sounds; 
Since,  if  kind  Nature  many  worlds  could  clip,18 
Still  th'  upper  worlds'  water  and  earth  would  slip 
Into  the  lower,  and  so,  in  conclusion, 
All  would  return  into  the  old  confusion. 
Besides,  we  must  imagine  empty  distance 
Between  these  worlds,  wherein  without  resistance 
Their  wheels  may  whirl,  not  hindered  in  their  courses 
By  the  inter-jostling  of  each  other's  forces. 

But  all  things  are  so  fast  together  fixt 
With  so  firm  bonds  that  there's  no  void  betwixt. 
Thence  comes  it  that  a  cask,  pierced  to  be  spent, 
Though  full  yet  runs  not  till  we  give  it  vent. 
Thence  is't  that  bellows,  while  the  snout  is  stopt, 
So  hardly  heave,  and  hardly  can  be  op't. 
Thence  is't  that  water  doth  not  freeze  in  winter 
Stopt  close  in  vessels  where  no  air  may  enter. 
Thence  is't  that  garden-pots,  the  mouths  kept  close, 
Let  fall  no  liquor  from  their  sieve-like  nose; 
And  thence  it  is  that  the  pure,  silver  source, 
In  leaden  pipes  running  a  captive  course 


i6"Dove-like  satst  brooding  on  the  vast  abyss"  is  Milton's 
language  at  the  beginning  of  Paradise  Lost,  in  speaking  of  the  same 
matter. 

i7"Duke,"    that   is    to    say,   "Leader."     Compare    Par.   Lost,    I,    6-10. 

i8"Clip,"  meaning  "embrace,"  was  a  word  unfamiliar  to  Syl- 
vester in  that  sense,  evidently,  since  he  explained  by  a  marginal  in- 
terpretation in  the  old  editions.  Shakespeare  uses  it,  however,  and 
it  is  found  in  much  earlier  English  writing. 


BUILDING  THE  WORLD. 

Contrary  to  its  nature,  spouteth  high; 
To  all  so  odious  is  vacuity. 

God,  then,  not  only  framed  nature  one, 
But  also  set  it  limitation 
Of  form  and  time;  exempting  ever  solely 
From  quantity  His  own  self's  essence  holy. 
How  can  we  call  the  heavens  unmeasured, 
Since  measured  time  their  course  hath  measured? 
How  can  we  count  this  universe  immortal, 
Since  many  ways  the  parts  prove  hourly  mortal — 
Since  its  commencement  proves  its  consummation, 
And  all  things  ay     decline  to  alteration? 

Let  bold  Greek  sages  feign  the  firmament 
To  be  composed  of  a  fifth  element; 
Let  them  deny,  in  their  profane  profoundness, 
End  and  beginning  to  the  heavens'  roundness, 
And  let  them  argue  that  death's  laws  alone 
Reach  but  the  bodies  under  Cynthia's  throne; 
The  sandy  grounds  of  their  prophetic  brawling 
Are  all  too  weak  to  keep  the  world  from  falling. 

One  day  the  rocks  from  top  to  toe  shall  quiver, 
The  mountains  melt,  and  all  in  sunder  shiver; 
The  heavens  all  rent  for  fear;  the  lowly  fields, 
Puffed  up,  shall  swell  to  huge  and  mighty  hills; 
Rivers  shall  dry,  or  if,  in  any  flood 
Rest  any  liquor,  it  shall  all  be  blood. 
The  seas  shall  be  on  fire,  and  on  the  shore 
The  thirsty  whales  with  horrid  noise  shall  roar; 
The  sun  shall  seize  the  black  coach  of  the  moon 
And  make  it  midnight  when  it  should  be  noon ; 
With  rusty  mask  the  heavens  shall  hide  their  face, 
The  stars  shall  fall,  and  all  away  shall  pass; 
Disorder,  dread,  horror  and  death  shall  come, 
Noise,  storms  and  darkness  shall  usurp  the  room:; 
And  then  the  chief  Chief  Justice,  venging  wrath 
Which  He  already  often  threatened  hath, 
Shall  make  a  bonfire  of  this  mighty  ball, 
As  once  He  made  it  a  vast  ocean  all. 
Alas,  how  faithless  and  how  modestless 


THE  FIRST  DAY.  11 

Are  you  that  in  your  ephemerides 
Mark  year  and  month  and  day  which  evermore 
'Gainst  years,  months,  days,  shall  dam  up  Saturn's  door! 
At  thought  whereof  even  now  my  heart  doth  ache, 
My  flesh  doth  faint,  my  very  soul  doth  shake. 

You  have  miscast  in  your  arithmetic, 
Mislaid  your  counters;19  graspingly  you  seek 
In  night's  black  darkness  for  the  secret  things 
Sealed  in  the  casket  of  the  King  of  kings. 
'Tis  He  that  keeps  the  eternal  clock  of  time, 
And  holds  the  weights  of  that  appointed  chime. 
He  in  His  hand  the  sacred  book  doth  bear 
Of  that  close  clasped,  final  calendar, 
Where,  in  red  letters,20  not  with  us  frequented, 
The  certain  date  of  that  great  day  is  printed — 
That  dreadful  day  which  doth  so  swiftly  post 
That  'twill  be  seen  before  foreseen,  of  most. 

Then,  then,  good  Lord,  shall  Thy  dear  Son  descend, 
Though  He  seem  yet  in  feeble  flesh  ypend, 
In  complete  glory  from  the  glistering  sky — 
Millions  of  angels  shall  about  Him  fly; 
Mercy  and  Justice,  marching  cheek  by  jowl, 
Shall  His  divine,  triumphant  chariot  roll, 
Whose  wheels  shall  shine  with  lightning  round  about, 
And  beams  of  glory  each  where  blazing  out. 

Those  that  were  laden  with  proud  marble  tombs, 
Those  that  were  swallowed  in  wild  Monsters'  wombs, 
Those  that  the  sea  hath  swilled,  those  that  the  flashes 
Of  ruddy  flames  have  burned  all  to  ashes, 
Awakened,  all  shall  rise  and  all  revest 
The  flesh  and  bones  that  they  at  first  possessed. 

All  shall  appear  and  hear  before  the  throne 
Of  God,  the  judge  without  exception, 


19A  reminder  of  a  method  of  reckoning  which  survived  in 
America  well  into  the  19th  century,  especially  in  schools  for  young 
children. 

20As  red  letters  for  noting  holidays  in  calendars  are  coming 
into  vogue  again  after  nearly  a  century  of  general  disuse,  a  note  on 
this  phrase  seems  unnecessary. 


12  BUILDING  THE  WORLD. 

The  final  sentence,  sounding  joy  and  terror, 

Of  everlasting  happiness  or  horror. 

Some  shall  His  justice,  some  His  mercy  taste, 

Some  called  to  joy,  some  into  torments  cast, 

When  from  the  goats  He  shall  His  sheep  dissever; 

These  blest  in  Heaven,  those  cursed  in  hell  forever.  .  . 

O,  Father  of  the  light!21  of  wisdom  fountain! 

Out  of  the  bulk  of  that  confused  mountain 

What  should — what  could  issue  before  the  light 

Without  which  beauty  were  no  beauty  hight?     . 

The  Ephesian  temple  and  high  Pharian  tower 

And  Carian  tomb,  trophies  of  wealth  and  power, 

In  vain  had  they  been  builded,  every  one, 

By  Scopas,  Sostrates  and  Ctesiphon, 

Had  all  been  wrapped  up  from  all  human  sight 

In  th'  obscure  mantle  of  eternal  night. 

What  one  thing  more  doth  the  good  architect 

In  princely  works  more  specially  respect 

Than  lightsomeness — to  th'  end  the  world's  bright  eye, 

Careering  daily  once  about  the  sky, 

May  shine  therein,  and  that,  in  every  part 

It  may  seem  pompous  both  for  cost  and  art? 

Whether  God's  spirit,  moving  upon  the  ball 
Of  bubbling  waters  which  yet  covered  all, 
Thence  forced  the  fire,  as  when  amid  the  sky, 
Auster  and  Boreas,  jousting  furiously 
Under  hot  Cancer,  make  two  clouds  to  clash, 
Whence  th'  air  at  midnight  flames  with  lightning  flash ; 
Whether,  when  God  the  mingled  lump  dispacked, 
From  fiery  element  did  light  extract; 
Whether  about  the  vast,  confused  crowd 
For  twice  six  hours  He  spread  a  shining  cloud, 
Which  after  He  re-darkened,  that  in  time 
The  night  as  long  might  wrap  up  either  clime  ;K 
Whether  that  God  made  then  those  goodly  beams 


2lSee  Pope's  "Universal  Prayer." 

22"Clime"  or  "climate,"  meaning  territory,  is  still  in  good  English 
use,  though  seldom  seen  in  American  writings. 


THE  FIRST  DAY.  13 

Which  gild  the  world,  but  not  as  now  it  seems; 
Or  whether  else  some  other  lamp  He  kindled 
Upon  the  heap  yet  all  with  waters  blindled,23 
Which,  flying  roundabout,  gave  light  in  order 
To  th'  unplaced  climates  of  that  deep  disorder; 
As  now  the  sun,  circling  about  the  ball, 
The  light's  bright  chariot,  doth  enlighten  all. 

No  sooner  said  He,  "Be  there  light,"  but  lo ! 
The  formless  lump  to  perfect  form  'gan  grow, 
And  all  illustred  with  light's  radiant  shine, 
Doffed  mourning  weeds  and  decked  it  passing  fine. 
All  hail,  pure  lamp,  bright,  sacred  and  excellinig; 
Sorrow  and  care,  darkness  and  dread  repelling; 
The  world's  great  taper,  wicked  men's  just  terror, 
Mother  of  truth,  true  beauty's  only  mirror — 
God's  eldest  daughter!24    O,  how  thou  art  full 
Of  grace  and  goodness!     O,  how  beautiful! 
Since  thy  great  Parent's  all-discerning  eye 
Doth  judge  thee  so,  and  since  His  Majesty — 
Thy  glorious  Maker — in  His  sacred  lays 
Can  do  no  less  than  sing  thy  modest  praise. 

But  yet,  because  all  pleasures  wax  unpleasant 
If  without  pause  we  still  possess  them  present 
And  none  can  right  discern  the  sweets  of  peace 
That  have  not  felt  war's  irksome  bitterness, 
Th'  all's  Architect  alternately  decreed 
That  night  the  day  and  day  should  night  succeed. 
The  night,  to  temper  day's  exceeding  drought, 
Moistens  our  air  and  makes  our  earth  to  sprout. 
The  night  is  she  that  all  our  travails  eases, 
Buries  our  care  and  all  our  griefs  appeases. 
The  night  is  she  that,  with  her  sable  wing 
In  gloomy  darkness  hushing  everything, 
Through  all  the  wtorld  dumb  silence  doth  distil, 
And  wearied  bones  with  quiet  sleep  doth  fill. 


23"Blindled"  seems  to  be  a  word  of  Sylvester's  manufacture,  per- 
haps from  "blindfolded." 
^"Offspring  of  Heaven,  first-born."     Par.  Lost,  III,  1. 


14  BUILDING  THE  WORLD. 

Sweet  night,  without  thee — without  thee,  alas, 
Our  life  were  loathsome — e'en  a  hell  to  pass; 
For  outward  pains  and  inward  passions  still 
With  thousand  deaths  would  soul  and  body  thrill.25 
Oh  night,  thou  pullest  the  proud  mask  away 
Wherewith  proud  actors  in  this  world's  great  play 
By  day  disguise  them;  for  no  difference 
Night  makes  between  the  peasant  and  the  prince, 
The  poor  and  rich,  the  prisoner  and  the  judge, 
The  foul  and  fair,  the  master  and  the  drudge, 
The  fool  and  wise,  barbarian  and  the  Greek; 
For  night's  black  mantle  covers  all  alike. 

He  that,  condemned  for  some  notorious  vice, 
Seeks  in  the  mines  the  baits  of  avarice, 
Or  swelt'ring  at  the  furnace,  'fineth  bright 
Our  soul's  dire  sulphur,  resteth  yet  at  night. 
He  that,  still  stooping,  tugs  against  the  tide 
His  laden  barge  alorvg  a  river's  side, 
And  filling  shores  with  shouts,  doth  melt  him  quite, 
Upon  his  pallet  resteth  yet  at  night. 
He  that  in  summer  in  extremest  heat, 
Scorched  all  day  in  his  own  scalding  sweat, 
Shaves  with  keen  scythe  the  glory  and  delight 
Of  motley  meadows,26  resteth  yet  at  night; 
And  in  the  arms  of  his  dear  fere27  foregoes 
All  former  troubles  and  all  former  woes. 

Only  the  learned  sisters'  sacred  minions, 
While  silent  night  under  her  sable  pinions 
Folds  all  the  world,  with  painless  pain  they  tread 
A  sacred  path  that  to  the  heavens  doth  lead, 
And  higher  than  the  heavens  their  readers  raise 
Upon  the  wings  of  their  immortal  lays.28 


25lt  should  be  borne  in  mind  that  the  word  "thrill"  is  general- 
ly used  by  Sylvester  as  a  synonym  for  "pierce." 

26" Smooth-shaven  green." — II  Penseroso. 

27The  usual  meaning  of  "fere"  is  "companion." 

28The  poets,  servants  of  the  muses,  do  their  writing  or  compo- 
sition, at  night.  Du  Bartas's  original  says  nothing  of  "painless  pain," 
and  is  otherwise  somewhat  less  inflated  in  this  passage. 


THE  FIRST  DAY.  15 

E'en  now  I  listened  for  the  clock  to  chime 
Day's  latest  hour,  that  for  a  little  time 
The  night  might  ease  my  labors ;  but  I  see 
As  yet  Aurora  scarce  hath  smiled  on  me. 
My  work  still  grows;  for  now  before  mine  eyes 
Heaven's  glorious  host  in  nimble  squadrons  flies.29 

Whether  this  day  God  made  you  angels  bright 
Under  the  name  of  heaven  or  the  light, 
Or  whether  after,  in  the  instant  born 
With  those  bright  spangles  which  the  heavens  adorn; 
Or  whether  you  derive  your  high  descent 
Long  time  before  the  world  and  firmament, 
(For  I  will  stiffly  argue  to  and  fro 
In  nice  opinions  whether  so  or  no, 
Especially  where  curious  search,  perchance, 
Is  not  so  safe  as  humble  ignorance,) 
I  am  resolved  that  once  the  Omnipotent 
Created  you  immortal,  innocent, 
Good,  fair  and  free ;    in  brief,  of  essence  such 
As  from  His  own  not  differed  very  much. 

But  even  as  those  whom  princes'  favors  oft 
Above  the  rest  have  raised  and  set  aloft, 
Are  oft  the  first  that  without  right  or  reason 
Attempt  rebellion  and  do  practice  treason, 
And  so  at    length  are  justly  tumbled  down 
Beneath  the  foot  that  raught30  above  the  crown. 
Even  so  some  legions  of  those  lofty  spirits, 
Envy'ng  the  glory  of  their  Master's  merits, 
Conspired  together,  strove  against  the  stream 
T'  usurp  His  scepter  and  His  diadem. 
But  He,  whose  hands  do  never  lightnings  lack, 
Proud,  sacrilegious  mutineers  to  wrack, 
Hurled  them  in  air  or  in  some  lower  cell ; 
For  where  God  is  not,  everywhere  is  hell.31 


29Waiting  for  midnight,  he  is  overtaken  by  the  dawn.  Com- 
pare, as  to  the  concluding  couplet,  Milton's  "The  spangled  hosts  keep 
watch  in  squadrons  bright." — Morning  of  Nativity,  III. 

sooid  preteric  of  reach. 

3iDoubtless    the   eighteen   lines   concluding   here   were   the   origin- 


16  BUILDING  THE  WORLD. 

This  cursed  crew,  with  pride  and  fury  fraught, 
Of  us  at  least  have  this  advantage  got, 
That  by  experience  they  can  truly  tell 
How  far  it  is  from  highest  heaven  to<  hell; 
For  by  a  proud  leap  they  have  ta'en  the  measure, 
When  headlong  thence  they  tumbled  in  displeasure. 

These  fiends  are  so  far  off  from  bettering  them 
By  this  hard  judgment,  that  still  more  extreme, 
The  more  their  plague  the  more  their  pride  increases- 
The  more  their  rage;  as  lizards,  cut  in  pieces, 
Threat  with  more  malice,  though  with  lesser  might, 
And  even  in-  dying  show  their  living  spite. 

For  ever  since,  against  the  King  of  Heaven 
The  apostate  Prince  of  Darkness  still  hath  striven, 
Striven  to  deprave  His  deeds,  t'inter  their  story, 
T'  undo  His  church,  to  undermine  His  glory, 
To  'reave  the  world's  great  body,  ship,  and  state, 
Of  head,  of  master  and  of  magistrate. 
But  finding  still  the  majesty  divine 
Too  strongly  fenced  for  him  to  undermine — 
His  ladders,  cannons,  and  his  engines  all 
Forceless  to  batter  the  celestial  wall, 
Too  weak  to>  hurt  the  head,  he  hacks  the  members; 
The  tree  too  hard,  the  branches  he  dismembers. 

The  fowlers,  fishers,  and  the  foresters 
Set  not  so  many  toils  and  baits  and  snares 
To  take  the  fowl,  the  fish,  the  savage  beasts 
In  woods  and  floods  and  fearful  wilderness, 
As  this  false  spirit  sets  engines  to  beguile 
The  cunningest  that  practice  naught  but  wile. 

With  wanton  glance  of  Beauty's  beaming  eye 


al  inspiration  of  Paradise  Lost,  as  the  picture  facing  page  11  was  the 
basis  of  the  "Hymn"  in  the  nativity  ode  of  Milton's  earlier  years. 
The  publication  office  of  The  Divine  Weeks  was  very  near  the  dwell- 
ing of  the  Miltons;  and  from  the  time  that  John  Milton  learned  to 
read  until  he  was  past  twelve  years  old  Sylvester's  quarto  was  the 
constant  companion  of  the  boy-poet,  in  whose  mind  many  of  the  crud- 
ities of  the  older  versifier  suffered  "a  sea  change  into  something  rich 
and  strange,"  and  were  thus  transferred  to  life  everlasting. 


THE  FIRST  DAY.  17 

He  snares  hot  youth  in  sensuality; 

With  gold's  bright  luster  doth  he  age  entice 

To  idolize  detested  avarice; 

With  praise  of  princes,  with  their  pomp  and  state, 

Ambitious  spirits  he  doth  intoxicate; 

With  curious  skill,  pride  and  vain  dreams  he  witches 

Those  that  condemn  pleasure  and  state  and  riches; 

Yea,  faith  itself  and  zeal  he  sometimes  angles, 

Wherewith  this  juggler  heaven-bent32  souls  entangles, 

Much  like  the  green  worm  that  in  spring  devours 

The  buds  and  leaves  of  choicest  fruit  and  flowers, 

Turning  their  sweetest  sap  and  fragrant  verdure 

To  deadly  poison  and  detested  ordure. 

Alas,  who  but  would  have  been  gulled  erewhiles 
With  night's  black  monarch's  most  malicious  wiles? 
To  hear  stones  speak,  see  wooden  miracles, 
And  golden  gods  to  utter  oracles ; 
To  see  him  play  the  prophet  and  inspire 
So  many  sibyls  with  a  sacred33  fire; 
To  raise  dead  Samuel  from  his  silent  tomb, 
(To  tell  his  king  calamities  to  come,) 
T'  inflame  the  flamen  of  Jove-Ammon34  so 
With  heathen-holy  fury  fits  to  know 
Future  events,  and  sometimes  truly  tell 


32in  New  England,  and  in  those  of  the  United  States  where  the 
New  England  element  of  population  predominates,  the  expression, 
"Hell-bent,"  is  very  familiar;  as  in  the  old  campaign  song,  "Maine 
went,  Hell-bent,  for  Governor  Kent,"  etc.  "Bent"  appears  to  have 
been  used,  even  in  England,  in  a  closer  relation  with  the  "inclined," 
of  Latin  derivation,  than  has  been  the  case  since.  Compare  Hosea, 
XI,  7:  "My  people  are  bent  on  backsliding  from  me." 

33"Sacred  "  in  this  volume  is  not  restricted  in  meaning  as  in 
the  present  uses  of  English.  It  is  here  as  likely  to  be  intended  to  im- 
ply devotion  to  evil  as  good.  See  also  Par.  Lost,  IX,  204,  where  "sa- 
cred" implies  taboo. 

34This  line  affords  a  rather  more  conspicuous  example  than  the  oth- 
ers of  Sylvester's  tendency  towards  repetitions  of  similar  or  identical 
sounds  in  single  lines.  The  practice  seems  to  have  been  a  survival 
of  the  Old  English  alliterations  which  served  in  preference  to  rhymes 
to  assist  in  memorizing  verses.  The  next  following  line  is  a  some- 
what less  pronounced  example  of  the  same  thing.  So  Milton's  "O 
Eve,  in  evil  hour  thou  didst  give  ear,"  Par.  Lost,  IX,  1067. 


18  BUILDING  THE  WORLD. 

The  blinded  world  what  afterwards  befell; 

To  counterfeit  the  wondrous  works  of  God — 

His  rod  turn  serpent  and  his  serpent,  rod — 

To  change  the  pure  streams  of  the  Egyptian  flood 

From  clearest  water  into  crimson  blood — 

To  rain  down  frogs,  and  grasshoppers  to  bring 

In  the  bedchambers  of  the  stubborn  king? 

For,  as  he  is  a  spirit,  unseen  he  sees 
The  plots  of  princes  and  their  policies. 
Unfelt,  he  feels  the  depths  of  their  desires — 
Who  harbors  vengeance,  and  whose  heart  aspires ; 
Besides,  to  circumvent  the  quickest  sp'rited, 
To  blind  the  eyes  of  even  the  clearest  sighted 
And  to  enwrap  the  wisest  in  his  snares 
He  oft  foretells  what  he  himself  prepares. 
For,  if  a  wise  man — though  man's  days  be  done 
As  soon,  almost,  as  they  be  here  begun, 
And  his  dull  flesh  be  of  too  slow  a  kind 
T'ensue  the  nimble  motions  of  his  mind — 
By  power  alone  of  plants  and  minerals, 
Can  work  a  thousand  supernaturals, 
Who  but  will  think  much  more  these  spirits  can 
Work  strange  effects,  exceeding  sense  of  man? 
Since,  being  immortal,  long  experience  brings 
Them  certain  knowledge  of  the  effects  of  things; 
And  free  from  body's  clog,  with  less  impeach 
And  lighter  speed  their  bold  designs  they  reach. 

Not  that  they  have  the  bridle  on  their  neck 
To  run  at  random  without  curb  or  check, 
T'abuse  the  earth,  and  all  the  world  to  blind, 
And  tyrannize  our  body  and  our  mind. 
God  holds  them  chained  in  fetters  of  His  power, 
That  without  leave,  one  minute  of  an  hour 
They  cannot  range.     It  was  by  His  permission 
The  lying  spirit  trained  Ahab  to  perdition, 
Making  him  march  against  that  foe  with  force, 
That  should  his  body  from  his  soul  divorce     .     . 
For  th'only  Lord  sometimes,  to'  make  a  trial 
Of  firmest  faith,  sometimes  with  errors  vile 


THE  FIRST  DAY.  19 

To  drench  the  souls  that  errors,  sole,  delight, 
Lets  loose  these  furies,  who  with  fell  despite 
Drive  still  the  same  nail,  and  pursue,  incensed, 
The  damned  drifts  in  Adam  first  commenced. 

But  as  these  rebels,  maugre  all  that  will, 
T'assist  the  good  be  forced  t'assault  the  ill, 
Th'unspotted  spirits  that  never  did  intend 
To  mount  too  high,  nor  yet  too  low  descend, 
With  willing  speed  they  every  moment  go 
Whither  the  grace  of  divine  grace  doth  blow. 
Their  aims  had  never  other  limitation 
Than  God's  own  glory  and  His  saints'  salvation. 
Lawless  desire  ne'er  enters  in  their  breast; 
The  Almighty's  face  is  their  ambrosial  feast; 
Repentant  tears  of  strayed  lambs  returning 
Their  nectar  sweet,  their  music,  sinners'  mourning. 

Ambitious  man's  greedy  desire  doth  gape, 
Scepter  on  scepter,  crown  on  crown  to  clap. 
These  never  thirst  for  greater  dignities; 
Travail's  their  ease;  their  bliss  in  service  lies: 
For  God  no  sooner  hath  His  pleasure  spoken, 
Or  bowed  his  head,  or  given  some  other  token, 
Or  almost  thought  on  an  exploit,  wherein 
The  ministry  of  angels  shall  be  seen, 
But  these  quick  posts  with  ready  expedition 
Fly,  to  accomplish  their  divine  commission.     .     . 

One  trusty  servant  for  divine  decrees, 
The  Jews'  apostle'  from  close  prison  frees; 
One  in  few  hours  a  fearful  slaughter  made 
Of  all  the  first-born  that  the  Memphians  had, 
Exempting  those  upon  whose    door-posts  stood 
A  sacred  token  of  lambs'  tender  blood; 
Another  mows  down  in  a  moment's  space 
Before  Jerusalem,  God's  chosen  place, 
Sennacherib's  proud,  over-daring  host 
That    threatened    Heaven,    and    'gainst   the   earth   did 

boast, 

In  his  blasphemous  brains,  comparing  even 
His  idol  gods  unto  the  God  of  Heaven.  . ; 


20  BUILDING  THE  WORLD. 

His  troops,  victorious  in  the  East  before, 
Besieged  the  city  which  did  sole  adore 
The  only  God ;  so  that,  without  their  leave, 
A  sparrow  scarce  the  sacred  walls  could  leave. 

Then  Hezekiah,  as  a  prudent  prince, 
Poising  the  danger  of  these  sad  events,     .     .     . 
The  massacre  of  infants  and  of  eld, 
His  royal  self  with  thousand  weapons  quelled, 
The  temple  razed,  th'altar  and  censer  void 
Of  sacred  use,  God's  servants  all  destroyed — 
Humbled  in  sackcloth  and  in  ashes,  cries 
For  aid  to  God,  the  God  of  victories, 
Who  hears  his  suit  and  thunders  dow*n  His  fury 
On  those  proud,  pagan  enemies  of  Jewry. 

For,  while  they  watch,  within  their  corps  de  garde, 
About  the  fire  securely  snorted  hard, 
From  Heaven  th'Almighty,  looking  sternly  down, 
Casting  His  friends  a  smile,  His  foes  a  frown, 
A  sacred  fencer  'gainst  the  Assyrians  sent, 
Whose  two-hand  sword,  at  every  veney,  slent35 
Not  through  a  single  soldier's  feeble  bones, 
But  keenly  slices  through  whole  troops  at  once, 
And  hews  broad  lanes  before  it  and  behind, 
As  swiftly  whirling  as  the  whirling  wind. 
Now  'gan  they  fly,  but  all  too  slow  to  shun 
A  flying  sword  that  followed  every  one. 
A  sword  they  saw,  but  could  not  see  the  arm 
That  in  one  night  had  done  so  dismal  harm ; 
As  we  perceive  a  windmill's  sails  to  go', 
But  not  the  wind  that  doth  transport  them  so. 

Blushing  Aurora  had  yet  scarce  dismissed 
Mount  Libanus  from  the  night's  gloomy  mist. 
When  th'Hebrew  sentinels,  discovering  plain 
An  hundred  four  score  and  five  thousand  slain, 
Exceeding  joyful,  'gan  to  ponder  stricter 
To  see  such  conquest  and  not  know  the  victor. 


35Fell   slantwise   at  every   stroke.     The   "two-hand   sword"   is   sug- 
gestive of  the  "two-handed  engine  at  the  door"  in  Lycidas. 


THE  FIRST  DAY.  21 

O,  sacred  tutors  of  the  saints!    You  guard 
Of  God's  elect,  you  pursuivants,  prepared 
To  execute  the  counsels  of  the  Highest! 
You  heavenly  courtiers,  to  your  King  the  nighest, 
God's  glorious  heralds,  Heaven's  swift  harbingers, 
'Twixt  Heaven  and  Earth  you  true  interpreters ! 
I  could  be  well  content  and  take  delight 
To  follow  farther  your  celestial  flight, 
But  that  I  fear,  here  having  ta'en  in  hand 
So  long  a  journey  both  by  sea  and  land — 
I  fear  to  faint  if  at  the  first  too  fast 
I  cut  away  and  make  too  hasty  haste ; 
For  travelers  that  burn  in  brave  desire 
To  see  strange  countries,  manners  and  attire, 
Make  haste  enough  if  only  the  first  day 
From  their  own  sill  they  set  but  on  their  way. 


THE  SECOND  DAY 


Clear  source  of  learning!  Soul  of  th'universe! 
Since  thou  art  pleased  to  choose  my  humble  verse 
To  sing  Thy  praises,  make  my  pen  distil 
Celestial  nectar,  and  this  volume  fill 
With  th'Amalthean  horn;  that  it  may  have 
Some  correspondence  to>  a  theme  so  grave. 
Rid  Thou  my  passage  and  make  clear  the  way 
From  all  incumbers.     Shine  upon  this  Day, 
That,  guided  safely  by  Thy  sacred  light, 
My  rendezvous  I  may  attain  ere  night. 

That  huge  broad-length,  that  long-broad  height  pro- 
found, 

Th'infinite  finite,  that  great  moundless  mound, — 
I  mean  that  cnaos,  that  self-jarring  mass 
Which  in  a  moment  made  of  nothing  was, 
Was  the  rich  matter  and  the  matrix,  whence 
The  heavens  should  issue,  and  the  elements.     .     . 

Since1  then  the  knot  of  sacred  marriage 
Which  joins  the  elements  from  age  to  age, 
Brings  forth  the  world's  babes, — since  their  enmities 
With  full  divorce  kill  whatsoever  dies, 
And  since,  but  changing  their  degree  and  place 


iSylvester  uses  two  contractions  of  the  word,  "Sithence."  In  the 
sense  in  which  it  appears  in  this  line,  "Sith"  is  always  employed  by 
him.  Meaning  "Subsequently,"  he  writes  "Since."  The  former  con- 
traction having  been  dropped  from  later  English  use,  the  latter  is 
substituted  for  it  in  all  instances  occurring  in  this  volume  except  where 
its  retention  seems  necessary  on  account  of  the  exigencies  of  the 
verse. 


24  BUILDING  THE  WORLD. 

They  frame  the  various  forms  wherewith  the  face 

Of  this  fair  world  is  so  embellished, 

As  six  sweet  notes,  curiously  varied 

In  skillful  music,  make  a  hundred  kinds 

Of  heavenly  sounds,  that  ravish  hardest  minds, 

And  with  division  of  a  choice  device, 

The  hearers'  souls  out  at  their  ears  entice; 

Or  as  of  twice  twelve  letters,  thus  transposed, 

This  world  of  words  is  variously  composed, 

And  of  these  words,  in  diverse  order  sown, 

This  sacred  volume  that  you  read  is  grown — 

Through  gracious  succor  of  th'eternal  Deity — 

Rich  in  discourse,  with  infinite  variety;2 

It  was  not  causeless  that  so  carefully 

God  did  divide  their  common  seignory, 

Assigning  each  a  fit,  confined  sitting, 

Their  quantity  and  quality  befitting. 

Whoso  sometime  hath  seen  rich  ingots  tried, 
When,  forced  by  fire,  their  treasures  they  divide; 
How1  fair  and  softly3  gold  to  gold  doth  pass, 
Silver  seeks  silver,  brass  consorts  with  brass, 
And  the  whole  lump,  of  parts  unequal,  severs 
Itself  apart  in  white,  red,  yellow  rivers, 
May  understand  how,  when  the  mouth  divine 
Opened,  (to  each  its  proper  place  t'assign,) 
Fire  flew  to  fire,  water  to>  water  slid, 
Air  clung  to  air,  and  earth  with  earth  abid. 

Earth,  as  the  lees  and  heavy  dross  of  all, 
After  its  kind  did  to  the  bottom  fall. 
Contrariwise,  the  light  and  nimble  fire 
Did  through  the  crannies  of  th'old  heap  aspire 
Unto  the  top,  and  by  its  nature  light 


2Shakespeare's  Antony  and  Cleopatra,  in  which  this  phrase  is  used, 
was  not  published  until  five  years  after  Sylvester's  death,  and  there 
is  no  evidence  of  the  representation  of  the  play  on  any  stage  before 
its  publication. 

3Cowper's  adoption  of  the  expression,  "Fair  and  softly,"  in  the 
"History  of  John  Gilpin"  has  made  it  familiar  to  the  general  reader. 
Sylvester  uses.it  frequently,  and  a  second  time  in  this  Day. 


THE  SECOND  DAY.  25 

No  less  than  hot,  mounted  in  sparks  upright; 

As,  when  we  see  Aurora,  passing  gay, 

With  opals  paint  the  ceiling  of  Cathay, 

Sad  floods  do  fume,  and  the  celestial  tapers, 

Through  earth's  thin  pores,  in  air  exhale  their  vapors 

But  lest  the  fire,  (which  all  the  rest  embraces) 
Being  too  near,  should  burn  the  earth  to  ashes, 
As  chosen  umpires  the  great  All-Creator 
Betweeen  these  foes  placed  the  air  and  water;4 
For  one  sufficed  not  their  stern  strife  to  end. 
Water,  as  cousin,  did  the  earth  befriend; 
Air  for  its  kinsman  fire  as  firmly  deals, 
But  both,  uniting  their  divided  zeals, 
Took  up  the  matter  and  appeased  the  brawl 
Which  doubtless  else  had  discreated  all. 
Air  lodged  aloft  and  water  under  it — 
Not  casually,  but  so  disposed  fit 
By  Him  who,  nature  in  her  kind  to  keep, 
Kept  due  proportion  in  His  workmanship, 
And  in  this  store-house  of  His  wondrous  treasure 
Observed  in  all  things  number,  weight  and  measure. 

For,  had  the  water  next  the  fire  been  placed, 
Fire,  seeming  then  more  wronged  and  more  disgraced, 
Would  suddenly  have  left  its  adversary 
And  set  upon  the  umpire,  more  contrary. 
But  all  the  links  of  th'holy  chains  that  tether 
The  many  members  of  the  world  together 
Are  such  as  none  but  only  He  can  break  them 
Who  at  the  first  did  of  mere  nothing  make  them. 
Water,  as  armed  with  moisture  and  with  cold, 
The  cold,  dry  earth  with  its  one  hand  doth  hold, 
With  th'other,  th'air;  the  air,  as  moist  and  warm, 
Holds  fire  with  one,  water  with  th'other  arm; 
As  country  maidens,  in  the  month  of  May, 
Merrily  sporting  on  a  holiday, 


4The  ancient  cosmography  as  commonly  accepted  in  the  era  of 
Du  Bartas  and  long  afterwards,  is  as  clearly  elucidated  here,  perhaps, 
as  in  any  other  brief  description. 


26  BUILDING  THE  WORLD. 

And  lusty,  dancing  of  a  lively  round 
About  the  maypole,  by  the  bagpipe's  sound, 
Hold  hand  in  hand,  so  that  the  first  is  fast, 
By  means  of  those  between,  unto  the  last. 

For  since  'tis  so  that  the  dry  element 
Not  only  yields  her  own  babes  nourishment, 
But  with  the  milk  of  her  abundant  breasts 
Doth  also  feed  air's  nimble-winged  guests, 
And  also  all  th'innumerable  legions 
Of  greedy  mouths  that  haunt  the  briny  regions,  . 
'Twas  meet,  her  slow,  sad  body  to  digest 
Farther  from  heaven  than  any  of  the  rest ; 
Lest,  of  heaven's  course  th'eternal,  swift  careers, 
Rushing  against  her  with  their  whirling  spheres 
Should  her  transport  as  swift  and  violent 
As  ay  they  do  their  neighbor  element. 

And  since,  on  th'other  side,  th'harmonious  course 
Of  heaven's  bright  torches  is  th'immortal  source 
Of  earthly  life,  and  since  all  alterations 
Almost  are  caused  by  their  quick  agitations, 
In  all  the  world  God  could  not  place  so  fit 
Our  mother  earth  as  in  the  midst  of  it. 
For  all  the  stars  reflect  their  lively  rays 
On  fire  and  air  and  water  various  ways, 
Dispersing  so  their  powerful  influence 
On,  in  and  through  these  various  elements; 
But  on  the  earth  they  all  in  one  concur, 
And  all  unite  their  severed  force  in  her; 
As  in  a  wheel,  which  with  a  long  deep  rut 
Its  turning  passage  in  the  dirt  doth  cut, 
The  distant  spokes  nearer  and  nearer  gather 
And  in  the  nave  unite  their  points  together.     .     . 
Air,  host  of  mists,  the  bounding  tennis  ball 
That  stormy  tempests  toss  and  play  withal, 
Of  winged  clouds  the  wide,  inconstant  house, 
Th'unsettled  kingdom  of  swift  vEolus, 
Great  warehouse  of  the  winds,  whose  traffic  gives 
Motion  of  life  to  everything  that  lives, 
Is  not  throughout  all  one.     Our  elder  sages 


THE  SECOND  DAY.  27 

Have  fitly  parted  it  into  three  stages; 
Whereof  because  the  highest  still  is  driven 
With  violence  of  the  first-moving  heaven 
From  east  to  west,  and  from  the  west  returning 
To  the  honored  cradle  of  the  rosy  morning, 
And  also  seated  next  the  fiery  vault, 
It,  by  the  learned,  very  hot  is  thought. 
That  which  we  touch,  with  times  doth  variate; 
Now  hot,  now  cold,  and  sometimes  temperate. 
Warm  tempered  showers  it  sendeth  in  the  spring; 
In  autumn  likewise,  but  more  varying; 
In  winter  time,  continual  cold  and  chill, — 
In  summer  season  hot  and  sultry  still; 
For  then  the  fields,  scorched  with  flames,  reflect 
The  sparkling  rays  of  thousand  stars'  aspect, 
And  chiefly  Phoebus,  to  whose  arrows  bright 
Our  globy  grandam  serves  for  butt  and  white.5 

But  now,  because  the  middle  region's  set 
Far  from  the  fiery  ceiling's  flagrant  heat, 
And  also  from  the  warm  reverberation 
Which  ay  the  earth  reflects  in  diverse  fashion, 
That  circle  shivers  with  eternal  cold, 
For  into  hail  how  should  the  water  mould 
Even  when  the  summer  hath  gilt  Ceres'  gown, 
Except  those  climes  with  icicles  were  sown? 

So  soon  as  Sol,  leaving  the  gentle  Twins, 
With  Cancer  or  thirst-panting  Leo,  inns, 
The  midmost  air  redoubleth  all  his  frosts, 
Being  besieged  by  two  mighty  hosts 
Of  heat,  more  fierce  'gainst  his  cold  force  than  ever, 
Calls  from  all  quarters  his  chill  troops  together, 
T'encounter  them  with  his  united  power, 
Which  than  dispersed,  hath  far  greater  power. 
As  Christian  armies  from  the  frontiers  far, 
And  out  of  fear  of  Turks'  outrageous  war, 
March  in  disorder  and  become  dispersed, 
As  many  squadrons  as  were  soldiers  erst; 

BReferring  to  targets  in  the  practice  of  archery. 


28  BUILDING  THE  WORLD. 

So  that  sometimes  the  untrained  multitude 
With  bats  and  bows  hath  beat  them  and  subdued. 
But  if  they  once  perceive,  or  understand 
The  moony  standards  of  proud  Ottoman 
To  be  approaching,  and  the  sulph'ry  thunder 
Wherewith  he  brought  both  Rhodes  and  Belgrade 

under, 

They  soon  unite,  and  in  a  narrow  place 
Entrench  themselves;  their  courage  grows  apace 
Their  heart's  on  fire;  and  circumcised  powers 
By  their  approach  double  the  strength  of  ours. 

'Tis  doubtless  this  antiperistasis — 
Bear  with  the  word;  I  hold  it  not  amiss 
T'adopt  sometimes  such  strangers  for  our  use 
When  reason  and  necessity  induce, 
As,  namely,  when  our  native  phrase  doth  want 
A  word  so  forceful  and  significant — 
Which  makes  a  fire  seem  to>  our  sense  and  reason 
Hotter  in  winter  than  in  summer  season, 
'Tis  it  which  causeth  the  cold,  frozen  Scythia, 
(Too  often  kissed  by  th'husband  of  Orithyia,6) 
To  bring  forth  people  whose  still  hungry  breast, 
Winter  or  summer,  can  more  food  digest 
Than  those  lean  starvelings  which  the  sun  doth  broil 
Upon  the  hot  lands  of  the  Libyan  soil; 
And  that  ourselves,  happily  seated  fair, 
Whose  spongy  lungs  draw  sweet  and  wholesome  air, 
Hide  in  our  stomachs  a  more  lively  heat, 
While  bifront  Janus'  frosty  frowns  do  threat; 
Than  when  bright  Phoebus,  leaving  swarthy  Chus,7 
Mounts  to  our  zenith  to  reflect  on  us.     .     . 

For,  as  a  little  end  of  burning  wax 
By  th'emptiness,  or  of  itself,  attacks 
In  cupping  glasses,  through  the  scotched  skin 
Behind  the  poll,  superfluous  humors  thin, 
Which,  fuming  from  the  brain,  did  thence  descend 


6Boreas   (the  North  Wind,)  was  the  husband  of  Orithyia. 
7Ethiopia. 


THE  SECOND  DAY.  29 

Upon  the  sight,  and  much  the  same  offend, 

So  the  swift  coachman,  whose  bright,  flaming  hair 

Doth  every  day  gild  either  hemisphere, 

Two  sorts  of  vapors  by  his  heat  exhales 

From  floating  deeps  and  from  the  flowery  dales; 

One  somewhat  hot,  but  heavy,  moist  and  thick, 

The  other  light,  dry,  burning,  pure  and  quick, 

Which,  through  the  welkin  roaming  all  the  year, 

Make  the  world  diverse  to  itself  appear. 

Now,  if  a  vapor  be  so  thin  that  it 
Cannot  to  water  be  transformed  fit, 
And  that,  with  cold-limed  wings,  it  hover  near 
The  flow'ery  mantle  of  our  mother    dear, 
Our  air  grows  dusky,  and  moist,  drowsy  mist 
Upon  the  fields  doth  for  a  time  persist ; 
And  if  this  vapor  fair  and  softly  fly, 
Not  to  the  cold  stage  of  the  middle  sky, 
But  'bove  the  clouds,  it  turneth  in  a  trice 
To  dew  in  April,  in  December,  ice. 

But  if  the  vapor  bravely  can  adventur' 
Up  to  th'eternal  seat  of  shivering  winter, 
The  small,  thin  humor  by  the  cold  is  pressed 
Into  a  cloud  which  wanders  east  and  west 
Upon  the  wind's  wings,  till  in  drops  of  rain 
It  fall  into  its  grandam's  lap  again. 

Whether  from  boisterous  wind,  with  stormy  puff 
Jostling  the  clouds  with  mutual  counter-buff, 
Do  break  their  brittle  sides  and  make  them  shatter 
In  drizzling  showers  their  swift  distilling  water, — 
As  when  a  wanton,  heedless  page,  perhaps, 
Rashly  together  two  full  glasses  claps,8 
Both  being  broken,  suddenly  they  pour 
Both  their  brewed  liquors  on  the  dusty  floor, — 
Or  whether  th'upper  clouds'  moist  heaviness 
Doth  with  its  weight  the  under  cloud  oppress, 
And  so  one  humor  doth  another  crush 


8The  illustration  here  given  has  the  air  of  having  been  a  personal 
experience  of  the  poet. 


30  BUILDING  THE  WORLD. 

Till  to  the  ground  their  liquid  pearls  do  gush, — 
As  the  more  clusters  of  ripe  grapes  we  pack 
In  vintage  time  upon  the  hurdle's  back, 
At  its  pierced  bottom  the  more  fuming  liquor 
Runs  in  the  scummy  vat,  and  falls  the  thicker. 

Then  many  heaven-floods  in  our  floods  do  lose-am9 
Nought's    seen    but    showers;    th'heaven's    sad,    sable 

bosom 

Seems  all  in  tears  to  melt,  and  earth's  green  bed 
With  odious  frogs  sometimes  is  covered ; 
Either  because  the  floating  cloud  doth  fold 
Within  itself  both  moist,  dry,  hot  and  cold, 
Whence  all  things  here  are  made,  or  else  for  that 
The  active  winds,  sweeping  this  dusty  flat, 
Sometimes  in  air  some  fruitful  dust  do  heap 
Whence   these  new-formed   ugly  creatures  leap. 
As  on  the  edges  of  some  standing  lake 
Which  neighbor  mountains  with  their  gutters  make, 
The  foamy  slime  itself  transformeth  oft 
To  green  half-tadpoles,  playing  there  aloft, 
Half  made,  half  unmade,  round  about  the  flood 
Half  dead,  half  living,  half  a  frog,  half  mud. 

Sometimes  it  happens  that  the  force  of  cold 
Freezes  the  whole  cloud.    Then  we  may  behold 
Tn  silver  flakes  a  heavenly  wool  to  fall. 
Then  fields  seem  ,grassless,  forests  leafless  all, 
The  world's  all  white;  and  through  the  heaps  of  snow 
The  tallest  stag  can  scarce  his  armor  show. 

Sometimes  befalls  that  when  by  secret  power 
The  clouds  new  changed  to  a  dripping  shower, 
Th'excessive  cold  of  the  mid  air  anon 
Candies  it  all  in  balls  of  icy  stone, 
Whose  violent  storms  sometimes,  alas,  do  proin10 

9The  spelling  here  is  not  changed  from  that  of  the  original  and  may 
have  been  intended  as  a  writing  of  "loose  'em"  or  "lose  'em."  The 
ensuing  description  of  meteorological  phenomena  ought  to  be  of  inter- 
est as  an  example  of  scientific  investigation  in  the  sixteenth  century. 

lOThis  form  of  "prune"  can  not  be  modernized  here,  on  account  of 
its  frequent  use  in  making  rhymes.  It  is  the  invariable  orthography 
of  the  word  in  The  Divine  Weeks. 


THE  SECOND  DAY.  31 

Without  a  knife  our  orchard  and  our  vine, — 
Reap  without  sickle,  beat  down  birds  and  cattle, 
Degrade  our  woods,  and  make  our  roofs  to  rattle.     .     . 

If  th'exhalation  hot  and  oily  prove 
And  yet  as  feeble  giveth  place  above, 
To  th'airy  regions'  everlasting  frost 
Incessantly  th'apt-tending  fume  is  tossed 
Till  it  inflame;  then  like  a  squib  it  falls, — 
Or  fire-wing'd  shaft  or  sulph'ry  powder-balls. 

But  if  this  kind  of  exhalation  tower 
Above  the  walls  of  winter's  icy  bower 
'T  inflameth  also,  and  anon  becomes 
A  new,  strange  star,  presaging  awful  dooms. 
And,  for  this  fire  hath  more  fuel  in't 
Than  had  the  first,  'tis  not  so  quickly  spent ; 
Whether  the  heaven's  incessant  agitation 
Into  a  star  transforming  th'exhalation, 
Kindle  the  same,  like  as  a  coal,  that  winked 
On  a  stick's  end  and  seemed  almost  extinct, 
Tossed  in  the  dark  with  an  industrious  hand 
To  light  the  night,  becomes  a  fire-brand; 
Or  whether  th'upper  fire  do  fire  the  same 
As  lighted  candles  do  th'unlight  aflame. 

According  as  the  vapor's  thick  or  rare, 
Even  or  uneven,  long,  large,  round  or  square, 
Such  are  the  forms  it  in  the  air  resembles; 
At  sight  whereof  th'amazed  vulgar  trembles. 
Here  in  the  night  appears  a  flaming  spire, 
There  a  fierce  dragon  folded  all  in  fire, 
Here  a  bright  comet,  there  a  burning  beam, 
Here  flying  lances,  there  a  fiery  stream; 
Here  seems  a  horned  goat,  environed  round 
With  fiery  flakes  about  the  air  to  bound, 
There,  with  long,  bloody  hair,  a  blazing  star 
Threatens  the  world  with  famine,  plague  and  war; 
To  princes,  death,  to  kingdoms,  many  crosses; 
To  all  estates  inevitable  losses; 
To  herdmen,  rot;  to  plowmen,  hapless  seasons; 
To  sailors,  storms;  to  cities,  civil  treasons. 


32  BUILDING  THE  WORLD. 

But  hark!    What  hear  I  in  the  heavens?  methinks 
The  world's  wall  shakes,  and  its  foundation  shrinks. 
It  seems  even  now  that  horrible  Persephone 
Loosing  Megar',  Alecto  and  Tysiphone, 
Weary  of  reigning  in  black  Erebus 
Transports  her  hell  between  the  heavens  and  us. 

'Tis  held,  I  know,  that  when  a  vapor  moist, 
As  well  from  fresh  as  from  salt  waters  hoist 
In  the  same  instant  with  hot  exhalations 
In  the  airy  region's  secondary  stations, 
The  fiery  fume,  besieged  with  the  crowd 
And  keen,  cold  thickness  of  that  dampish  cloud, 
Strengthens  its  strength,  and  with  redoubled  volleys 
Of  joined  heat,  on  the  cold  leaguer  sallies. 

Like  as  a  lion,  only  late  exiled 
From's  native  forests;  spit  at  and  reviled, 
Mocked,  moved  and  troubled  with  a  thousand  toys 
By  wanton   children, — idle  girls   and  boys, — 
With  hideous  warring  doth  his  prison  fill, 
In's  narrow  cloister  ramping  wildly,  still 
Runs  to  and  fro,  and,  furious,  less  doth  long 
For  liberty,  than  to  revenge  his  wrong; 
This  fire,  desirous  to  break  forth  again 
From's  cloudy  ward,  cannot  itself  restrain, 
But  without  resting,  loud  it  groans  and  grumbles, 
And    rolls    and    roars,    and    round,    round,    round    it 

rumbles, 

Till,  having  rent  the  lower  side  in  sunder, 
With  sulphury  flash  it  have  shot  down  its  thunder. 

Though  willing  to  unite,  in  these  alarms, 
To's  brother's  forces  its  own  fainting  arms, 
And  th'hottest  circle  of  the  world  to  gain, 
To  issue  upward  oft  it  strives  in  vain. 
For  'tis  then  fronted  with  a  trench  so  large, 
And  such  an  host,  that  though  it  often  charge 
On  this  and  that  side,  the  cold  camp  about. 
With  its  hot  skirmish,  yet  still,  still,  the  stout 
Victorious  foe  repelleth  every  push. 
So  that,  despairing,  with  a  furious  rush, 


THE  SECOND  DAY.  33 

Forgetting  honor,  it  is  fain  to  fly 

By  the  back  door,  with  blushing  infamy. 

Then  th'ocean  boils  for  fear;  the  fish  do  deem 
The  sea  too  shallow  to  safe-shelter  them; 
The  earth  doth  shake;  the  shepherd  in  the  field 
In  hollow  rocks  himself  can  hardly  shield; 
Th'afrrighted  heavens  open,  and  in  the  vale 
Of  Acheron,  grim  Pluto's  self  looks  pale. 
Th'air  flames  with  fire;  for  the  loud  roaring  thunder, 
Rending  the  cloud  that  it  includes,  asunder, 
Sends  forth  those  flashes  which  so  blear  our  sight ; 
As  wakeful  students  in  a  winter's  night 
Against  the  steel  glancing  with  stony  knocks 
Strike  sudden  sparks  into  their  tinder-box. 

Moreover,  lightning  of  a  fume  is  framed, 
Through  'tself's  hot  dryness  evermore  inflamed, 
Whose  power,  past  credit,  without  razing  skin, 
Can  bruise  to  powder  all  our  bones  within ; 
Can  melt  the  gold  that  greedy  misers  hoard 
In  barred  coffers,  and  not  burn  the  board; 
Consume  the  shoes  and  never  hurt  the  feet ; 
Empty  a  cask,  yet  not  demolish  it.     . 

Shall  I  omit  a  hundred  prodigies 
Oft  seen  in  forehead  of  the  frowning  skies? 
Sometimes  a  fiery  circle  doth  appear, 
Proceeding  from  the  beauteous  beams  and  clear 
Of  sun  and  moon,  and  other  stars'  aspect, 
Down  looking  on  a  thick,  round  cloud  direct; 
When  not  of  force  to  thrust  their  rays  throughout  it, 
In  a  round  crown  they  cast  them  round  about  it; 
Like  as,  almost,  a  burning  candle,  put 
Into  a  closet  with  the  door  close  shut, 
Not  able  through  the  boards  to  send  its  light, 
Out  at  the  edges  round  about,  shines  bright. 

But,  in's  declining,  when  Sol's  countenance 
Direct  upon  a  waterish  cloud  doth  glance, — 
A  waterish  cloud,  which  cannot  easily 
Hold  any  longer  her  moist  tympany, — 
On  the  moist  cloud  he  limns  his  lightsome  front, 


BUILDING  THE  WORLD. 

And  with  a  gaudy  pencil  paints  upon't 

A  blue^reen-gilt  bow,  bended  over  us; 

For  th'adverse  cloud  which  first  receiveth  thus 

Apollo's  rays,  the  same  direct  repels 

On  the  next  cloud,  and  with  his  gold  it  mells 

Her  various  colors ;  like  as  when  the  sun 

At  a  bay  window  peepeth  in  upon 

A  bowl  of  water,  his  bright  beams'  aspect 

With  trembling  luster  it  doth  far  reflect 

Against  th'high  ceiling  of  the  lightsome  hall, 

With  stately  fretwork  overcrusted  all. 

On  th'other  side,  if  the  cloud  sidelong  sit, 
And  not  beneath — or  justly  opposite1 — 
To  sun  or  moon;  then  either  of  them  forms 
With  strong  aspect,  double  or  triple  forms 
Upon  the  same.    The  vulgar's  then  in  fright 
To  see  at  once  three  chariots  of  the  light, 
And  in  the  welkin,  on  night's  gloomy  throne, 
To  see  at  once  more  shining  moons  than  one. 

Methinks  I  hear,  when  I  do  hear  it  thunder, 
The  voice  that  brings  swains  up  and  Caesars  under. 
By  that  tower-tearing  stroke  I  understand 
Th'undaunted  strength  of  the  divine  right  hand. 
When  I  behold  the  lightning  in  the  skies 
Methinks  I  see  th'Almighty's   glorious  eyes. 
When  I  perceive  it  rain  down  timely  showers, 
Methinks  the  Lord  His  horn  of  plenty  pours. 
When  from  the  clouds  excessive  water  spins, 
Methinks  God  weeps  for  our  unwept-for  sins ; 
And  when  in  heaven  I  see  the  rainbow  bent, 
I  hold  it  for  a  pledge  and  argument 
That  nevermore  shall  universal  floods 
Presume  to  mount  over  the  tops  of  woods 
Which  hoary  Atlas  in  the  clouds  doth  hide, 
Or  on  the  crowns  of  Caucasus  do  ride. 
But,  above  all,  my  pierced  soul  inclines, 
When  th'angry  heavens  threat  with  prodigious  signs, 
When  nature's  order  doth  reverse  and  change 
Preposterously  into  disorder  strange.  .  .  . 


THE  SECOND  DAY.  3ft 

God,  the  great  God  of  heaven,  sometimes  delights 
From  top  to  toe  to  alter  nature's  rites, 
That  His  strange  works,  to  nature  contrary 
May  be  forerunners  of  some  misery. 
The  drops  of  fire  which  weeping  heaven  did  shower 
Upon  Lucania,  when  Rome  sent  the  flower 
Of  Italy  into  the  wealthy  clime 
Which  Euphrates  fats  with  his  fruitful  slime, 
Presaged  that  Parthians  should,  the  next  year,  tame 
The  proud  Lucanians,  and  nigh  quench  their  name.  .  . 

Jews, — no  more    Jews;  no  more  of  Abram's  sons; 
But  Turks,  Tartareans,  Scythians,  Lestrigons, — 
Say  what  you  thought: — What  thought  you  when  so 

long 

A  flaming  sword  over  your  temple  hung, 
But  that  the  Lord  would,  with  a  mighty  arm, 
The  righteous  vengeance  of  his  wrath  perform 
On  you  and  yours?     That  what  the  plague  did  leave 
Th'insatiate  gorge  of  famine  should  bereave? 
That  sucking  infants,  crying  for  the  teat 
Self-cruel  mothers  should  unkindly  eat; 
And  that,  ere  long,  the  share  and  coulter  should 
Rub  off  their  rust  upon  their  roofs  of  gold? 
And  all  because  you,  cursed,  crucified 
The  Lord  of  Life  who  for  our  ransom  died. 

The  ruddy  fountain  that  with  blood  did  flow, — 
The  fiery  rock  the  thundering  heavens  did  throw 
Into  Liguria, — and  the  bloody  crosses 
Seen  on  men's  garments, — seemed  with  open  voices 
To  cry  aloud  that  the  Turks'  swarming  host 
Should  pitch  his  proud  moons  on  the  Genoan  coast. 
O  frantic  France!  why  dost  not  thou  make  use 
Of  strangeful  signs  whereby  the  heavens  induce 
Thee  to  repentance?     Canst  thou  tearless  gaze 
Night  after  night  on  that  prodigious  blaze, — 
That  hairy  comet, — that  long  streaming  star 
Which  threatens  earth  with  famine,  plague  and  war? 
Th'Almighty's  trident  and  three-forked  fire 
Wherewith  He  strikes  us  in  His  greatest  ire. 


36  BUILDING  THE  WORLD. 

But  what,  alas,  can  heaven's  bare  threatenings  urge, 

Since  all  the  sharp  rods  which  so  hourly  scourge 

Thy  senseless  back  cannot  so  much  as  wrest 

One  single  sigh  from  thy  obdurate  breast? 

Thou  drinkest  thine  own  blood;  thine  own  flesh  thou 

eatest ; 

In  what  most  harms  thee,  thy  delight  is  greatest. 
O  senseless  folk,  sick  of  a  lethargy, 
Who  to  the  death  despise  your  remedy! 
Like  fro  ward  jades  that  for  no  striking  stir, 
But  wax  more  restive  still,  the  more  we  spur, 
The  more  your  wounds,  the  more  secureness11  grows, 
Fat  with  afflictions,  as  an  ass  with  blows, 
And  as  the  sledge  hardens  with  strokes  the  steel, 
So  the  more  beaten,  still  the  less  ye  feel.12     . 

Yet  once  again,  dear  country,  must  I  call  :13 
England,  repent!  fall,  to  prevent  thy  fall! 
Though  thou  be  blind,  thy  wakeful  watchmen  see 
Heaven's  ireful  vengeance  hanging  over  thee 
In  fearful  signs,  threatening  a  thousand  woes 
To  thy  sin's  deluge,  which  all  overflows. 

Thine  uncontrolled,  bold,  open  atheism; 
Close  idol  service;  cloaked  hypocrism; 
Common  blaspheming  of  God's  name  in  oaths; 
Usual  profaning  of  His  Sabaoths ; 

Thy  blind,  dumb,  idle  shepherds,  choked  with  steeples, 
That  fleece  thy  flocks,  and  do  not  feed  thy  peoples ; 
Strifeful  ambition;  Florentizing  states; 
Bribes  and  affection  swaying  magistrates ; 
Wealth's  merciless  wrong,  usury,  extortion; 
Poor's  idleness,  repining  at  their  portion; 
Thy  drunken  surfeits,  and  excess  in  diet, 


iiCarelessness. 

i2Du  Bartas  wrote  during  the  civil  wars  of  the  reign  of  Henri  III 
of  France. 

l3The  thirty  lines  beginning  here  are  part  of  a  still  longer  inter- 
polation of  Sylvester's  own.  Compare  with  it  that  portion  of  Mil- 
ton's Lycidas  beginning,  "How  well  could  I  have  spared,"  and  ending 
with  the  couplet  referring  to  the  "two-handed  engine  at  the  door." 


THE  SECOND  DAY.  37 

Thy  sensual  wallowing  in  lascivious  riot; 

Thy   huffed,   puffed,   painted,   curled,   pearled,   wanton 

pride, 

(The  bawd  to  lust  and  to  all  sins  beside) ; 
These  are  thy  sins.     These  are  the  signs  of  ruin 
To  every  state  that  doth  the  same  pursue  in. 
Such  cost  the  Jews  and  Asians  desolation, 
Now  turned  Turks,  that  were  the  holy  nation. 
Happy  who  take,  by  others'  dangers,  warning 
"All  that  is  writ  is  written  for  our  learning;" 
So  preach  thy  prophets,  but  who  heeds  their  cry, 
Or  who  believes?    Then  much  less  hope  have  I. 
Wherefore,  dear  Bartas,  having  warned  them, 
From  this  digression  turn  we  to  our  theme.     .     . 

So,  next  the  heavens,   God  marshaled  th'element 
Which  seconds  them  in  swift,  bright  ornament, 
And  then  the  rest,  according  as  of  kin 
To  th'azure  spheres  or  th'erring  fires  they  bin. 
Yet  some,  more  crediting  their  eyes  than  reason, 
From's  proper  place  this  essence  do  disseisin, 
And  vainly  strive,  after  their  fancy's  sway, 
To  cut  the  world's  best  element  away, — 
The  nimble,  light,  bright  flaming,  heatful  fire, 
Fountain  of  life,  smith,  founder,  purifier, 
Cook,  surgeon,  soldier,  gunner,  alchymist, 
The  source  of  motion; — briefly  what  not  is't? 
Apt  for  all,  acting,  all,  whose  arms  embrace 
Under  heaven's  arms  this  universal  mass. 
"For  if,"  they  say,  "the  fire  were  lodged  between 
The  heavens  and  us,  it  would  by  night  be  seen, 
Since  then,  so  far  off,  as  in  meads  we  pass, 
We  see  least  glow-worms  glister  in  the  grass; 
Besides,  how  should  we  through  the  fiery  tent 
Perceive  the  bright  eyes  of  the  firmament, 
Since  here  the  soundest  and  the  sharpest  eye 
Can  nothing  through  a  candle-flame  descry?" 

O,  hard  believing  wits,  if  Zephyrus' 
And  Auster's  sighs  were  never  felt  of  us 
You  would  suppose  the  space  between  earth's  ball 


BUILDING  THE  WORLD. 

And  heaven's  bright  arches  void  and  empty  all; 
And  then  you  would  no  more  the  air  allow 
For  element  than  th'hot,  bright  flamer  now. 
Now,  even  as  far  as  Phoebus'  light  excels 
The  light  of  lamips  and  every  taper  else 
Wherewith  we  use  to  lengthen  th'  afternoon 
Which  Capricorn  ducks  in  the  sea  too  soon ; 
So  far  in  pureness  th'elemental  flame 
Excels  the  fire  that  for  our  use  we  frame. 
For  ours  is  nothing  but  a  dusky  light, 
Gross,  thick  and  smoky,  enemy  to  sight; 
But  that  above,  for  being  neither  blent 
With  fumy  mixture  of  gross  nourishment, 
Nor  tossed  with    winds,  but  far  from  us,  comes  near 
Its  neighbor,  heaven,  in  nature  pure  and  clear. 
But  of  what  substance  shall  I  after  Thee, 

0  matchless  Master,  make  heaven's  canopy? 
Uncertain  here,  my  resolutions  rock 

And  waver,  like  th'inconstant  weathercock, 
Which,  on  a  tower  turning  with  every  blast, 
Changeth  its  master  and  its  place  as  fast. 
Learned  Lyceum  now  awhile  I  walk  in, 
Then  th'academian  shades  I  stalk  in. 
Treading  the  way  that  Aristotle  went 

1  do  deprive  the  heavens  of  element 

And  mixture  too,  and  think  th'omnipotence 

Of  God  did  make  them  of  a  quintessence; 

Since  of  the  elements  two  still  erect 

Their  motion  upward,  and  two  dowta  direct ; 

But  th'heaven's  Course,  not  wandering  up  or  down, 

Continually  turns  only  roundly  round. 

The  elements  have  no  eternal  race,          , 

But  settle  ay  in  their  assigned  place ; 

But  th'  azure  circle,  without  taking  breath, 

Its  certain  course  forever  gallopeth. 

It  keeps  our  pace,  and  moved  with  weightless  weights, 

It  never  takes  fresh  horse,  nor  never  baits. 

Things  that  consist  of  th'elements'  uniting 
Are  ever  tossed  with  an  intestine  fighting ; 


THE  SECOND  DAY.  39 

Whence  springs,  in  time,  their  life  and  their  deceasing, 

Their  diverse  change,  their  waxing  and  decreasing; 

So  that,  of  all  that  is  or  may  be  seen 

With   mortal   eyes  under  night's  horned   queen,14 

Nothing  retaineth  the  same  form  and  face 

Hardly  the  half  of  half  an  hour's  space. 

But  the  heavens  feel  not  fate's  impartial  rigor; 

Years  add  not  to  their  stature  or  their  vigor; 

Use  wears  them  not,  but  their  green-ever  age 

Is  all  in  all  still  like  their  pupilage.15 

Then  suddenly,  turned  studious  Platonist, 
I  hold  the  heavens  of  elements  consist. 
'Tis  earth  whose  firm  parts  make  their  lamps  apparent, 
Their  bodies  fast.    Air  makes  them  all  transparent. 
Fire  makes  their  restless  circles  pure  and  clear, 
Hot,  lightsome,  light  and  quick  in  their  career; 
And  water,  'nointing  with  cold  moist  the  beams 
Of  th'interkissing,  turning  globe's  extremes, 
Tempers  the  heat  caused  by  their  rapid  turning, 
Which  else  would  set  all  th'elements  a  burning.     .     . 

See,  see  the  rag  of  human  arrogance! 
See  how  far  dares  man's  erring  ignorance, 
That  with  unbridled  tongue,  as  if  it  oft 
Had  tried  the  mettle  of  that  upper  loft, 
Dares,  without  proof  or  without  reason  yielded, 
Tell  of  what  timber  God  His  palace  builded. 
But  in  these  doubts  much  rather  rest  had  I 
Than  with  my  error  draw  my  reader  'wry, 
Till  a  Saint  Paul  do  re-descend  from  heaven, 
Or  till  myself — of  sinful  robe  bereaven, 
This  rebel  flesh,  whose  counterpoise  oppresses 
My  pilgrim  soul,  and  ever  it  depresses, — 
Shall  see  the  beauties  of  that  blessed  place, 
If  then  I  aught  shall  see,  save  God's  bright  face. 

But  even  as  many  or  more  quarrels  cumber 
Th'old  heathen  schools  about  the  heavens'  number. 


l4"The  horned  moon" — Milton  in  his  translation  of  Psalm  136. 
i5See  Shakespeare's  Antony  and  Cleopatra,  II,  2,  241. 


40  BUILDING  THE  WORLD. 

One  holds  but  one,  making  the  world's  eyes  shine 

Through  the  thin  thickness  of  that  crystalline,16 

As  through  the  ocean's  clear  and  liquid  flood 

The  slippery  fishes  up  and  down  do  scud. 

Another,  judging  certain  by  his  eye, 

And  seeing  seven  bright  lamps,  moved  diversely, 

Turn  this  and  that  way;  and  on  th'other  side 

That  all  the  rest  of  th'heaven's  twinkling  pride 

Keep  all  one  course;  ingeniously  he  varies 

The  heaven's  rich  building  into  eight  round  stories. 

Others,  amid  the  starriest  orb  perceiving 
A  triple  cadence,  and  withal  conceiving 
That  but  one  natural  course  one  body  goes, 
Count  nine;  some,  ten;  not  numbering  yet  with  those 
Th'empyreal  palace,  where  th'eternal  treasures 
Of  nectar  flow, — where  everlasting  pleasures 
Are  heaped  up, — where  an  immortal  May 
In  blissful  beauties  flourisheth  for  ay, — 
Where  life  still  lives, — where  God  His  'sizes  holds, 
Environed  round  with  seraphim  and  souls 
Bought  with  His  precious  blood,  whose  glorious  flight 
Erst  soared  from  earth  above  the  heavens  bright. 
Nor  shall  my  faint  and  humble  muse  presume 
So  high  a  song  and  subject  to*  assume. 

O  fair,  five-double  round,  sloth's  foe  apparent, 
Life  of  the  world,  days',  months'  and  years'  own  parent ! 
Thine  own  self's  model,  never  shifting  place, 
And  yet  thy  pure  wings  with  so  swift  a  pace 
Fly  over  us  that  but  our  thoughts  alone 
Can,  as  thy  babe,  pursue  thy  motion. 
Infinite  finite !  free  from  growth  and  grief, 
Discord  and  death !  dance-lover, — to  be  brief 
Still  like  thyself,  all  thine  own  in  thee  all, 
Transparent,  clear,  light, — law  of  this  low  ball ; 
Which  in  thy  wide  bout,  boundless,  all  dost  bound 
And  claspest  all  under  or  in  thy  round! 


i6See  Par.  Lost,  III,  479. 


THE  SECOND  DAY.  41 

Throne  of  th' Almighty,  I  would  fain  rehearse 
Thy  various  dances  in  this  very  verse, 
If  it  were  time;  and  but  my  bounded  song 
Doubteth  to  make  this  second  day  too  long. 
For  notwithstanding  yet  another  day 
I  fear  some  critic  will  not  stick  to  say 
My  babbling  muse  did  sail  with  every  gale 
And  mingled  yarn  to  length  her  web  withal. 

Yet  have  I  not  so  little  seen  and  sought 
The  volumes  which  our  age  hath  chiefest  thought, 
But  that  I  know  how  subtly  greatest  clerks 
Presume  to  argue  in  their  learned  works 
T'o'erwhelm  these  floods,  this  crystal  to  deface 
And  dry  this  ocean  which  doth  all  embrace. 
But  as  the  beauty  of  a  modest  dame 
Who,  well  content  with  nature's  comely  frame 
And  native  fairness,  as  'tis  freely  given 
In  fit  proportion  by  the  hand  of  Heaven, 
Doth  not  with  painting  prank,17  nor  set  it  out 
With  helps  of  art,  sufficient  fair  without, 
Is  more  praiseworthy  than  the  wanton  glance, 
Th'affected  gait,  th'alluring  countenance, 
The  mart  of  pride,  the  periwigs  and  painting, 
Whence  courtesans  refresh  their  beauty's  fainting; 
So  do  I  more  the  sacred  tongue  esteem, 
Though  plain  and  rural  it  do  rather  seem 
Than  schooled  Athenian,  and  divinity, 
For  only  varnish,  have  but  verity — 
Than  all  the  golden  wit-pride  of  humanity 
Wherewith  men  burnish  their  erroneous  vanity. 

I'd  rather  give  a  thousand  times  the  lie 
To  mine  own  reason  than  but  once  defy 
The  sacred  voice  of  th'everlasting  Spirit 
That  doth  so  often  and  so  loud  aver  it, 
That  God,  above  the  shining  firmament, 
(I  wot  not,  I,  what  kind)  of  waters  pent, 
Whether  that  pure,  super-celestial  water 


17'Trank"  so  used  by  Milton,  Comus,  Verse  759. 


42  BUILDING  THE  WORLD. 

With  our  inferior  have  no  likely  nature; 
Whether,  turned  vapor,  it  have  round  embowed 
Heaven's  highest  stage  in  a  transparent  cloud; 
Or  whether,  as  they  say,  a  crystal  case 
Do,  round  about,  the  heavenly  orb  embrace. 

But  with  conjectures  wherefore  strive  I  thus? 
Can  doubtful  proofs  the  certainty  discuss? 
I  see  not  why  man's  reason  should  withstand, 
Or  not  believe,  that  He  wihose  powerful  hand 
Bayed  up  the  Red  Sea  with  a  double  wall 
That  Israel's  host  might  'scape  Egyptian  thrall, 
Could  prop,  as  sure,  as  many  waves  on  high 
Above  the  heavens'   star-spangled18  canopy.     .     . 

Let  us  observe,  and  boldly  weigh  it  well, 
That  this  proud  palace  where  we  rule  and  dwell, 
Though  built  with  matchless  art,  had  fallen  long  since, 
Had  't  not  been  ceiled  round  with  moist  elements. 
For  like  as  in  man's  litttle  world,  the  brain 
Doth  highest  place  of  all  our  frame  retain, 
And  tempers  with  its  moistful  coldness  so 
Th'excessive  heat  of  other  parts  below; 
Th'eternal  Builder  of  this  beauteous  frame 
To  intermingle  meetly  frost  with  flame 
And  cool  the  great  heat  of  the  great  world's  torches 
This  day  spread  water  over  heaven's  bright  arches. 


iSApparently  the  origin  of  a  common  appellation  for  the  American 
flag. 


THE  THIRD  DAY 


All  those  steep  mountains,  whose  high,  horned  tops 
The  misty  cloak  of  wandering  clouds  enwraps, 
Under  first  waters  their  crump  shoulders  hid, 
And  all  the  earth  as  a  dull  pond  abid, 
Until  th'All-Monarch's  bounteous  majesty, 
Willing  t'enfeoff  man  this  world's  empery, 
Commanded  Neptune  straight  to  marshal  forth 
His  floods  apart,  and  to  unfold  the  earth; 
And  in  his  waters  now  contented  rest 
To  've  all  the  world  for  one  whole  day  possessed. 

As  when  the  muffled  heavens  have  wept  amain 
And  foaming  streams,  assembling  on  the  plain, 
Turned  fields  to  floods, — soon  as  the  showers  do  cease 
With  unseen  speed  the  deluge  doth  decrease, 
Sups  up  itself,  in  hollow  sponges  sinks, 
And  's  ample  arms  in  straiter  channel  shrinks; 
Even  so  the  sea  to  'tself  itself  betook, 
Mount  after  mount,  field  after  field  forsook, 
And  suddenly  in  smaller  casks  did  tun 
Her  waters,  that  from  every  side  did  run. 
Whether  th'imperfect  light  did  first  exhale 
Much  of  that  primer  humor,  wherewithal 
God,  on  the  second  day,  might  frame  and  found 
The  crystal  spheres  that  he  hath  spread  so  round; — 
Whether  th' Almighty  did  new  place  provide 
To  lodge  the  waters; — whether  opening  wide 
Th'earth's  hollow  pores,  it  pleased  Him  to  convey 
Deep  underground  some  arms  of  such  a  sea; 
Or  whether,  pressing  water's  gloomy  globe 


44  BUILDING  THE  WORLD. 

That  covered  all,  as  with  a  cloudy  robe, 

He  them  imprisoned,  in  those  bounds  of  brass, 

Which  to  this  day  the  ocean  dare  not  pass, 

Without  His  license;  for  th'Eternal,  knowing 

The  sea's  commotive  and  inconstant  flowing, 

Thus  curbed  her,  and  'gainst  her  envious  rage 

Forever  fenced  our  flowery  mantled  stage; 

So  that  we  often  see  those  rolling  hills 

With  roaring  noise  threatening  the  neighbor  fields, 

Through  their  own  spite  to  split  upon  the  shore 

Foaming  with  fury  that  they  dare  no  more. 

For  what  could  not  that  great  High  Admiral 
Work  in  the  waves,  since  at  His  servants'  call 
His  dreadful  voice,1  to  save  His  ancient  sheep, 
Did  cleave  the  bottom  of  th'Erythrean  deep,2 
And  toward  the  crystal  of  his  double  source 
Compelled  Jordan  to  retreat  his  course, 
Drowned  with  the  deluge  the  rebellious  world, 
And  from  dry  rocks  abundant  rivers  purled? 

Lo,  thus  the  weighty  waters  did  erewhile 
With  winding  turns  make  all  this  world  an  isle; 
For,  like  as  molten  lead,  being  poured  forth 
Upon  a  level  plat  of  sand  or  earth, 
In  many  fashions  mazeth  to  and  fro, — 
Runs  here  direct, — there  crookedly  doth  go, — 
Here  doth  divide  itself,  there  meets  again ; 
And  the  hot  riv'let  of  the  liquid  rain 
On  the  smooth  table  crawling  like  a  worm, 
In  th'instant  almost  every  form  doth  form; 
God  poured  the  waters  on  the  fruitful  ground 
In  sundry  figures;  some  in  fashion  round, 
Some  square,  some  crossed,  some  long,  some  lozenge- 
wise, 


iCompare  with  this  account  Par.  Lost,  VII,  276  et  seq. 

2"The  ruddy  waves  He  cleft  in  twain 

Of  the  Erythrean  main." — Milton's  Psalm  136.  In  Sylvester's  trans- 
lation of  Du  Bartas's  "Judith"  he  speaks  of  "the  Erythrean  ruddy 
billows."  Du  Bartas,  in  the  original  work,  does  not  speak  of  cleaving. 
"En  1'aer  1'  onde  pendit,"  are  his  words,  supposed  to  be  translated 
here. 


THE  THIRD  DAY.  45 

Some  triangles,  some  large,  some  lesser-size; 

Amid  the  floods  by  this  fair  difference 

To  'give  the  world  more  wealth  and  excellence. 

Such  is  the  German  sea,  such  Persian  sine, 

Such  th'Indian  gulf  and  such  th'Arabian  brine, 

And  such  our  sea,  whose  diverse-branched  retorsions 

Divide  the  world  in  three  unequal  portions. 

And  though  each  of  these  arms,  how  large  soever, 

To  the  great  ocean  seems  a  little  river, 

Each  makes  a  hundred  sundry  seas  besides, 

(Not  sundry  in  waters,  but  in  names  and  tides), 

To  moisten  kindly,  by  their  secret  veins, 

The  thirsty  thickness  of  the  neighbor  plains; 

To  bulwark  nations,  and  to  serve  for  fences 

Against  th'invasion  of  ambitious  princes ; : 

To  bound  large  kingdoms  with  eternal  limits; 

To  further  traffic  through  all  earthly  climates; 

T'abridge  long  journeys,  and  with  aid  of  wind 

Within  a  month  to  visit  either  Ind. 

And  all  the  highest,  heaven-approaching  rocks 
Contribute  hither  with  their  snowy  locks; 
For  soon  as  Titan,  having  run  his  ring, 
To  th'icy  climates  bringeth  back  the  spring, 
On  their  rough  backs  he  melts  the  hoary  heaps; 
Their  tops  grow  green,  and  down  the  water  leaps. 
On  every  side  it  foams,  it  roars,  it  rushes, 
And  through  the  steep  and  stony  hills  it  gushes, 
Making  a  thousand  brooks;  whereof,  when  one 
Perceives  his  fellow  striving  to  be  gone, 
Hasting  his  course,  he  him  accompanies. 
After,  another  and  another  hies 
All  in  one  race ;  joint-losing,  all  of  them, 
Their  names  and  waters  in  a  greater  stream ; 
And  he  that  robs  them  shortly  doth  deliver 
Himself  and  his  into  a  larger  river; 
And  that  at  length,  however  great  and  large, 
Lord  of  the  plain,  doth  in  some  gulf  discharge 
His  parent  tribute  to  Oceanus 
According  to  th'eternal  rendezvous. 


46  BUILDING  THE  WORLD. 

Yet,  notwithstanding,  all  these  streams  that  enter 
In  the  main  sea  do  not  at  all  augment  her; 
For  that,  besides  that  all  these  floods  in  one 
Matched  with  great  Neptune,  seem  as  much  as  none, 
The  sun,  as  erst  I  said,  and  winds  withal, 
Sweeping  the  surface  of  the  briny  ball, 
Extract  as  much  still  of  her  humors  thin 
As  weeping  air  and  willing  earth  pour  in. 
But  as  the  sweltering  heat  and  shivering  cold, 
Gnashing  and  sweat,  that  th'ague-sick  do  hold, 
Come  not  at  hazard,  but  in  time  and  order 
Afflict  the  body  with  their  fell  disorder, 
The  sea  hath  fits;  alternate  course  she  keeps 
From  deep  to  shore,  and  from  the  shore  to  deeps. 

Whether  it  were  that  at  the  first,  the  ocean 
From  God's  own  hand  received  this  double  motion 
By  means  whereof  it  never  resteth  stound, 
But  as  a  turning  whirligig  goes  round, 
Whirls  of  itself,  and  good  while  after,  takes 
Strength  of  the  strength  which  the  first  motion  makes ; 
Whether  the  sea  which  we  Atlantic  call 
Be  but  a  piece  of  the  Grand  Sea  of  all, 
And  that  his  floods,  entering  the  ample  bed 
Of  the  deep  main,  with  fury  hurried 
Against  the  rocks,  repulsed  with  disdain 
Be  thence  compelled  to  turn  back  again; 
Or  whether  Cynthia,  that  with  changeful  laws 
Commands  moist  bodies,  doth  this  motion  cause; 
As  on  our  shore  we  see  the  sea  to  rise 
Soon  as  the  moon  begins  to  mount  our  skies, 
And    w'hen,    through    heaven's    vault    vailing    toward 

Spain, 

The  moon  descendeth,  then  it  ebbs  again. 
Again,  so  soon  as  her  inconstant  crown 
Begins  to  shine  on  th'other  horizon, 
It  flows  again;  and  then  again  it  falls 
When  she  doth  light  th'other  meridionals. 

We  see,  moreover,  that  th'Atlantic  seas 
Do  flow  much  farther  than  the  Genoese 


THE  THIRD  DAY.  47 

Or  both  the  Bosphors;  and  that  lakes  which  grow 
Out  of  the  sea  do  neither  ebb  nor  flow, 
Because,  they  say,  the  silver-fronted  star 
That  swells  and  shrinks3  the  seas,  as  pleaseth  her, 
Pour  with  less  power  her  plenteous  influence 
Upon  these  strait  and  narrow-streamed  fens, 
And  inland  seas  which  many  a  mount  immounds, 
Than  on  an  ocean  vast  and  void  of  bounds. 
Even  as  in  summer,  her  great  brother's  eye 
When  winds  be  silent,  doth  more  easily  dry 
Wide-spreading  plains,  open  and  spacious  fields, 
Than  narrow  vales  vaulted  about  with  hills.     .     .     . 

In  fear  to've  drowned  myself  and  readers  too, 
(The  floods  so  made  my  words  to  overflow,) 
Therefore,  ashore !  and  on  the  tender  lee 
Of  lakes  and  pools,  rivers  and  springs,  let's  see 
The  sovereign  virtues  of  their  several  waters, 
Their  strange  effects  and  admirable  natures 
That  with  incredible  rare  force  of  theirs 
Confound  our  wits,  ravish  our  eyes  and  ears. 

Th'Ammonian  fount,  while  Phoebus'  torch  is  'light, 
Is  cold  as  ice;  and  opposite,  all  night, 
Though  the  cold  crescent  shine  thereon,  is  hot, 
And  boils  and  bubbles  like  a  seething  pot. 

They  say,  forsooth,  the  river  Silarus 
And  yet  another,  called  Eurimanus, 
Convert  the  boughs,  the  bark,  the  leaves  and  all 
To  very  stone,  that  in  their  waters  fall. 
Nor  should  I  blench  the  Jews'  religious  river, 
Which  every  Sabbath  dries  his  channel  over, 
Keeping  his  waves  from  working  on  that  day 
Which  God  ordained  a  sacred  rest  for  ay. 
If  near  unto  the  Eleusinian  spring 
A  sportful  jig  some  wanton  shepherd  sing 
The  ravished  fountain  falls  to  dance  and  bound, 


3"Shrink"  is  never  used  transitively  by  Shakespeare,  unless  we 
accept  as  genuine  the  line  in  3  Hen.  VI,  3,  2,  156.  Milton  has,  in  the 
ode  on  the  Nativity,  "The  Lybic  Hammon  shrinks  his  horn,"  and  in 
other  places  in  the  same  sense. 


48  BUILDING  THE  WORLD. 

Keeping-  true  cadence  to  the  rustic  sound. 
Cerona,  Xanth,  and  Cephisus  do  make 
The  thirsty  flocks  that  of  their  waters  take 
Black,  red  and  white ;  and  near  the  crimson  deep 
Th' Arabian  fountain  maketh  crimson  sheep. 

Salonian  fountain,  and  tho<u,  Andrian  spring, — 
Out  of  what  cellars  do  you  daily  bring 
The  oil  and  wine  that  you  abound  with  so? 

0  earth,  do  these  within  thy  entrails  grow? 
What,  be  there  vines  and  orchards  underground? 
Is  Bacchus'  trade  and  Pallas'  art  there  found? 

What  should  I  of  the  Illyrian  fountain  tell ; 
What  shall  I  say  of  the  Dodonean  well, 
Whereof  the  first  sets  any  clothes  on  fire ; 
Th'other  doth  quench — Who  but  will  this  admire  ?- 
A  burning  torch,  and  when  the  same  is  quenched, 
Lights  it  again,  if  it  again  be  drenched? 
Sure,  in  the  legends  of  absurdest  fables 

1  should  enroll  most  of  these  aclmirables, 
Save  for  the  reverence  of  the  unstained  credit 
Of  many  a  witness  where  I  erst  have  read  it ; 
And  saving  that  our  gain-spurred  pilots  find 
In  our  days  waters  of  more  wondrous  kind. 

Of  all  the  sources  infinite  to  count, 
Which  to  an  ample  volume  would  amount, 
Far  hence,  on  foreign  unfrequented  coast, 
I'll  only  choose  some  five  or  six  at  most, 
Strange  to  report,  perhaps  believed  of  few, 
And  yet  no*  more  incredible  than  true.4 

In  th'isle  of  iron, — one  of  those  same  seven 
Whereto  our  elders  "Happy"  name  had  given, 
The  savage  people  never  drink  the  streams 
Of  wells  and  rivers,  as  in  other  realms. 
Their  drink  is  in  the  air ;  their  .gushing  spring 
A  weeping  tree  out  of  itself  doth  wring; 
A  tree  whose  tender-bearded  root,  being  spread 


4These  and  other  "travelers'  tales"  cited  by  Du  Bartas  are  worth  at- 
tention as  indications  of  how  far  credulity  used  to  go. 


THE  THIRD  DAY.  49 

In  driest  land,  its  sweating-  leaf  doth  shed 
A  most  sweet  liquor,  and,  like  as  the  vine 
Untimely  cut,  weeps  at  her  wound,  her  wine 
In  pearled  tears  incessantly  distils 
A  crystal  stream  which  all  their  cisterns  fills, 
Through  all  the  island;  for  all  hither  hie, 
And  all  their  vessels  cannot  draw  it  dry. 

In  frosty  Iceland  are  two  fountains  strange, 
One  flows  with  wax;  the  other  stream  doth  change 
All  into  iron;  yet  with  scalding  steam 
In  thousand  bubbles  belcheth  up  its  stream. 
In  golden  Peru,  near  Saint  Helen's  mount, 
A  stream  of  pitch  comes  from  a  springing  fount. 

What  more  remains?    The  new-found  world,  besides, 
Toward  the  west  many  a  fair  river  guides, 
Whose  floating  waters,  knowing  the  use  aright 
Of  work-fit  day  and  rest-ordained  night 
Better  than  men,  run  swiftly  all  the  day, 
But  rest  all  night  and  stir  not  any  way.     .     .     . 
Now  as  my  happy  Gascony  excels 
In  corn,  wine,  warriors,  every  country  else, 
So>  doth  she  also  in  free  baths  abound, 
Where  strangers  flock  from  every  part  around 
The  barren  wife,  the  palsy-shaken  wight, 
The  ulcerous,  gouty,  deaf  and  decrepit, 
From  east  and  west  arriving,  fetch  from  hence 
Their  ready  help  with  small  or  no  expense.     .     .     . 

On  one  side  hills  hoared  with  eternal  snows 
And  craggy  rocks  Baigneres  do  inclose. 
The  other  side  is  sweetly  compassed  in 
With  fragrant  skirts  of  an  immortal  green, 
Whose  smiling  beauties  far  excel  in  all 
The  famous  praise  of  the  Peneian  vale. 
There's  not  a  house  but  seemeth  to  be  new ; 
Th'even-slated  roofs  reflect  with  glistering  blue; 
To  keep  the  pavement  ever  clean  and  sweet 
A  crystal  river  runs  through  every  street, 
Whose  silver  stream,  as  cold  as  ice,  doth  slide 
But  little  off  the  physic  water's  side, 


50  BUILDING  THE  WORLD. 

Yet  keeps  its  nature,  and  disdains  a  jot 
To  intermix  its  cold  with  th'other's  hot. 

But  all  these  wonders  that  adorn  my  verse 
Yet  come  not  near  unto  the  wondrous  Lers ; 
If  it  be  true  that  the  Stagyrian  sage, 
With  shame  confused,  and  driven  by  desperate  rage 
Because  his  reason  could  not  reach  the  knowing 
Of  Euripus's  seven-fold  ebb  and  flowing, 
Leapt  in  the  same,  and  there  his  life  did  end, 
Comprised  in  what  he  could  not  comprehend. 

What  had  he  done,  had  he  beheld  the  fountain 
Which  springs  at  Belstat  near  the  famous  mountain 
Of  Foix,  whose  flood,  bathing  Maserian  plains, 
Furnish  with  wood  the  wealthy  Toulousans? 
As  oft  as  Phoebus,  in  a  complete  race, 
On  both  horizons  shows  his  radiant  face, 
This  wondrous  brook  for  four  whole  months  doth  flow 
Four  times  six  times,  and  ebbs  as  oft,  as  low. 
For  half  an  hour  may  dry-shod  pass  that  list; 
The  next  half  hour  may  none  its  course  resist ; 
Whose  foaming  stream  strives  proudly  to  compare 
Even  in  the  birth  with  fameful'st  floods  that  are. 
O  learned  (nature  taught)  Arithmetician, 
Clockless,  so  just  to  measure  time's  partition  !5 

This  also  serveth  for  probation  sound 
That  th'earth  and  water's  mingled  mass  is  round, — 
Round  as  a  ball ;  seeing  on  every  side 
The  day  and  night  successively  to  slide. 
Yea,  though  Vespucio,  famous  Florentine, 
Mark  Pole  and  Columb,  brave  Italian  trine 
And  thousand  gallant  modern  Typheis6  else 
Had  never  brought  the  north  pole  parallels 
Under  the  south,  and  sailing  still  about 


5The  twenty-four  lines  omitted  here  are  interpolated  by  Sylvester. 
It  should  be  understood  that  in  all  cases  where  interpolations  are 
noted,  they  are  by  Sylvester  and  not  by  any  other  hand. 

6Du  Bartas  has  "Typhis."  The  reference  seems  to  be  to  Tiphys, 
pilot  of  the  ship,  Argo,  in  the  quest  of  the  Golden  Fleece.  That 
ancient  navigator  is  said  to  have  died  before  reaching  Colchis. 


THE  THIRD  DAY.  51 

So  many  new  worlds  under  us  found  out, — 
Nay,  never  could  they  the  arctic  pole  have  lost 
And  found  th'antarctic,  if  in  every  coast, 
Seas,  liquid  glass,  round  bowed  not  everywhere 
With  sister  earth,  to  make  a  perfect  sphere. 

But,  perfect  artist,  with  what  arches  strong, 
Props,  stays  and  pillars,  hast  thou  stayed  so  long 
This  hanging,  thin,  sad,  slippery  water  ball 
From  falling  out  and  overwhelming  all? 
May  it  not  be,  good  Lord,  because  the  water 
To  the  world's  center  tendeth  still  by  nature,7 
And  toward  the  bottom  of  this  bottom  bound, 
Willing  to  fall  doth  yet  remain  still  round? 
Or  may  't  not  t^e  because  the  surly  banks 
Keep  waters  captive  in  their  hollow  flanks, 
Or  that  our  seas  be  buttressed,  as  it  were, 
With  thousand  rocks  dispersed  here  and  there? 
Or  rather,  Lord,  is't  not  thine  only  power 
That  bows  it  round  about  earth's  branchy  bower? 

Doubtless,  great  God,  'tis  doubtless  thine  own  hand 
Whereon  this  mansion  of  mankind  doth  stand. 
For  though  it  hang  in  air,  swim  in  the  water, 
Though  every  way  it  be  a  round  theater, 
Though  all  turn  round  about  it,  though  for  ay 
Itself's  foundations  with  swift  motions  play, 
It  rests  immovable;  that  the  chosen  race 
Of  Adam  there  may  find  fit  dwelling-place.     .     .     . 

Let  any  judge  whether  this  lower  ball 
Whose  endless  greatness  we  admire8  so,    all, 
Seem  not  a  point,  compared  with  th'upper  sphere 
Whose  turning  turns  the  rest  in  their  career.' 
Since  the  least  star  that  wte  perceive  to  shine 
Above,  dispersed  in  th'arches  crystalline, — 
If,  at  the  least,  star-clerks  be  credit  worth — 


7"Tend  de  son  nature!  vers  le  centre  du  monde." — Du  Bartas. 

sit  is  probably  superfluous  in  the  case  of  almost  every  reader  to  call 
attention  to  the  fact  that  the  uniform  meaning  of  "admire"  three 
hundred  years  ago  was — "wonder  at." 

9See  Par.  Lost,  III,  482. 


52  BUILDING  THE  WORLD. 

Is  eighteen  times  bigger  than  all  the  earth ; 

Whence,  if  we  but  subtract  what  is  possessed 

From  north  to  south,  and  also  east  to  west, 

Under  the  empire  of  the  ocean 

Atlantic,  Indian  and  American, 

And  thousand  huge  arms  issuing  out  of  these, 

With  infinites  of  other  lakes  and  seas, 

And  also  what  the  two  intemperate  zones 

Do  make  unfit  for  habitations, — 

What  will  remain?    Ah,  nothing,  in  respect. 

Lo  here,  O  men !  Lo,  wherefore  you  neglect 

Heaven's  glorious  kingdom !   Lo,  the  largest  scope 

Glory  can  give  to  your  ambitious  hope. 

O  princes,  subjects  unto  pride  and  pleasure, 
Who  to  enlarge  but  a  hair's  breadth  the  measure 
Of  your  dominions,  breaking  oaths  of  peace, 
Cover  the  fields  with  bloody  carcasses; 
O  magistrates,  who  to  content  the  great, 
Make  sale  of  justice  on  your  sacred  seat, 
And  breaking  laws  for  bribes,  profane  your  place, 
To  leave  a  leek  to  your  unthankful  race; 
You  strict  extorters  that  the  poor  oppress, 
And  wrong  the  widow  and  the  fatherless, 
To  leave  your  offspring  rich,  of  others'  good, 
In  houses  built  of  rapine  and  of  blood; 
You  city  vipers,  that,  incestuous,  join 
Use  upon  use,  begetting  coin  of  coin; 
You  merchant  mercers  and  monopolies, 
Gain-greedy  chapmen,  perjured  hypocrites, 
Dissembling  brokers,  made  of  all  deceits, 
Who  falsify  your  measures  and  your  Weights 
T' enrich  yourselves,  and  your  unthrifty  sons 
To  gentilize  with  proud  possessions ; 
You  that  for  gain  betray  your  gracious  prince, 
Your  native  country,  or  your  dearest  friends; 
You  that  to  get  you  but  an  inch  of  ground, 
With  cursed  hands  remove  your  neighbor's  bound, 
(The  ancient  bounds  your  ancestors  have  set,) 
What  gain  you  all?    Alas,  what  do  you  get? 


THE  THIRD  DAY.  63 

Yea,  though  a  king  by  wile  or  war  had  won 
All  the  round  earth  to  his  subjection, 
Lo,  here  the  guerdon  of  his  glorious  pains; 
A  needle's  point,  a  mote,  a  mite,  he  gains, 
A  nit,  a  nothing,  did  he  all  possess, — 
Or  if  than  nothing  anything  be  less. 

When  God,  whose  words  more  in  a  moment  can 
Than  in  an  age  the  proudest  strength  of  man, 
Had  severed  the  floods,  leveled  the  fields, 
Embased  the  valleys  and  embossed  the  hills, — 
"Change,  change,"  quoth  He,  "O  fair  and  firmest  globe, 
Thy  mourning  weed  to<  a  green,  gallant  robe. 
Cheer  thy  sad  brows  and  stately  garnish  them 
With  a  rich,  fragrant,  flowery  diadem."     .     .     . 

No  sooner  spoken  but  the  lofty  pine 
Distilling  pitch,  the  larch  with  turpentine, 
Th'evergreen  bo>x  and  gummy  cedar  sprout, 
And  th'airy  mountains   mantle  round  about; 
The  mastful  oak,  the  useful  ash,  the  holm, 
Coat-changing  cork,  white  maple,  shady  elm, 
Through  hill  and  plain  ranged  their  plumed  ranks. 
The  winding  rivers  bordered  all  their  banks 
With  slice-sea  alders,10  and  green  osiers  small 
With  trembling  poplars,  and  with  willows  pale, 
And  many  trees  beside,  fit  to  be  made 
Fuel  or  timber,  or  to  serve  for  shade. 

The  dainty  apricock,  of  plums  the  prince, 
The  velvet  peach,  gilt  orange,  downy  quince, 
Already  bear,  graven  in  their  tender  barks, 
God's  powerful  providence  in  open  marks. 
The  scent-sweet  apple  and  astringent  pear, 
The  cherry,  filbert,  walnut,  meddelar, 
The  milky  fig,  the  damson  black  and  white, 
The   date  and  olive,  aiding  appetite, 
Spread  everywhere  a  most  delightful  spring, 
And  everywhere  a  very  Eden  bring. 


lOBecause  alders  have  the   property  of  remaining  under  water  in- 
definitely without  decay,  they  have  been  much  used  for  sluices. 


54  BUILDING  THE  WORLD. 

Here  the  fine  pepper  in  close  clusters  hung, 
There  cinnamon  and  other  spices  sprung; 
Here  dangled  nutmegs,  that  for  thrifty  pains 
Yearly  repay  the  Bandans  wondrous  gains; 
There  ,grows — th'Hesperian  plant, — the  precious  reed 
Whence  sugary  syrups  in  abundance  bleed. 
There  weeps  the  balm,  and  famous  trees  from  whence 
Th'Arabians  fetch  perfuming  frankincense. 
There  th'amorous  vine  coils,  in  a  thousand  sorts 
With  winding  arms  her  spouse  that  her  supports, — 
The  vine,  as  far  inferior  to  the  rest 
In  beauty,  as  in  bounty  past  the  best.      .     .     . 

And  though  through  sin,  whereby  from  heavenly  state 
Our  parents  barred  us,  th'earth,  degenerate 
From  her  first  beauty,  bearing  still  upon  her 
Eternal  scars  of  her  first  lord's  dishonor; 
Though  with  the  world's  age  her  weak  age  decay, 
Though  she  becomes  less  fruitful  every  day,     .     .     . 
Yet  doth  she  yield  matter  enough  to  sing 
And  praise  the  Maker  of  so  rich  a  thing. 

Never  mine  eyes  in  pleasant  spring  behold 
The  azure  flax,  the  golden  marigold, 
The  violet's  purple,  the  sweet  rose's  stammel, 
The  lily's  snow,  and  pansy's  various  ammel, 
But  that  in  them  the  Painter  I  admire, 
Who  in  more  colors  doth  the  fields  attire, 
Than  fresh  Aurora's  rosy  cheeks  display 
When  in  the  east  she  ushers  in  fair  day, 
Or  Iris'  bow,  which,  bended  in  the  sky, 
Bodes  fruitful  dews  whereas  the  fields  be  dry, 

Here,  dear  Lord  Bartas,  give  thy  servant  leave11 
In  thy  rich  garland  one  rare  flower  to  weave 
Whose  wondrous  nature  had  more  worthy  been 
Of  thy  divine,  immortalizing  pen, 
But  from  thy  sight,  when  Seine  did  swell  with  blood, 
It  sunk,  perhaps,  under  the  crimson  flood, 
When  beldam  Medicis,  Valois,  and  Guise, 


HEighteen  lines  are  interpolated  here. 


THE  THIRD  DAY.  56 

Stained  Hymen's  robe  with  heathen  cruelties, 

Because  the  sun,  to  shun  so  vile  a  view, 

His  chamber  kept,  and  wept  Bartholomew. 

For  so,  so  soon  as  in  the  western  seas 

Apollo  sinks  in  silver  Euphrates, 

The  lotos  dives  deeper  and  deeper  ay 

Till  midnight,  then  remounteth  toward  day, 

But  not  above  the  water  till  the  sun 

Do  re-ascend  above  the  horizon; 

So  ever  true  to  Titan's  radiant  flame 

That,  rise  he,  fall  he,  it  doth  still  the  same.  . 

God,  not  content  to've  given  these  plants  of  ours 
Precious  perfumes,  fruits,  plenty,  pleasant  flowers, 
Infused  physic  in  their  leaves  and  mores 
To  cure  our  sickness  and  to  salve  our  sores; 
Else,  doubtless,  death  assaults  so  many  ways, 
Scarce  could  we  live  a  quarter  of  our  days; 
But  like  the  flax,  which  flowers  at  once  and  falls, 
One  feast  would  serve  our  births  and  burials; 
Our  birth  our  death,  our  cradle  then  our  tomb, 
Our  tender  spring    our  winter  would  become. 

Good  Lord !  how  many  gasping  souls  have  'scaped 
By  th'aid  of  herbs,  for  whom  the  grave  hath  gaped, 
Who,  even  about  to  touch  the  Stygian  strand, 
Have  yet  beguiled  grim  Pluto's  greedy  hand! 
Beardless  Apollo's  bearded  son12  did  once 
With  juice  of  herbs  rejoin  the  scattered  bones 
Of  the  chaste  prince  that,  in  th'Athenian  court, 
Preferred  death  before  incestuous  sport. 
So  did  Medea,  for  her  Jason's  sake, 
The  frozen  limbs  of  13Aeson  youthful  make. 

O  sacred  simples  that  our  life  sustain 
And  when  it  flies  us,  call  it  back  again; 
'Tis  not  alone  your  liquor,  inly  ta'en, 
That  oft  defends  us  from  so  many  a  bane, 


i2Esculapius. 

iSAeson  was  the  father  of  Jason,  said  by  Ovid  to  have  experienced 
a  renewal  of  his  youth  by  the  magical  practices  of  Medea. 


56  BUILDING  THE  WORLD. 

But  even  your  savor,  yea,  your  neighborhood, 
For  some  diseases  is  exceeding  good, 
Working  so  rare  effects  that  only  such 
As  feel  or  see  them  can  believe  so  much. 

Blue  succory,  hanged  on  the  naked  neck, 
Dispels  the  dimness  that  our  sight  doth  check,  . 
The  burning  sun,  the  baneful  aconite, 
The  poisonous  serpents  that  unpeople  quite 
Cyrenean  deserts,  never  endanger  them 
That  wear  about  them  th'Artemisian  stem. 
About  an  infant's  neck  hang  peony, — 
It  cures  Alcides'  cruel  malady.14 
If  fuming  bowls  of  Bacchus  in  excess 
Trouble  thy  brains  with  storms15  of  giddiness, 
Put  but  a  garland  of  green  saffron  on 
And  that  mad  humor  will  be  quickly  gone. 
Th'enchanting  charms  of  Siren's  blandishments, 
Contagious  air,  engendering  pestilence, 
Infect  not  those  that  in  their  mouths  have  ta'en 
Angelica,   that   happy  counter-bane 
Sent  down  from  heaven  by  some  celestial  scout, 
As  well  the  name  and  nature  both  avow't.  . 

Nor,  powerful  herbs,  do  we  alonely  find 
Your  virtues  working  in  frail  human-kind; 
But  you  can  force  the  fiercest  animals, 
The  fellest  fiends,  the  firmest  minerals, — 
Yea,  fairest  planets,  if  antiquity 
Have  not  belied  the  hags  of  Thessaly. 
The  touch  alone  of  choke-pard  aconite16 
Bereaves  the  scorpion  both  of  sense  and  might; 
As,  opposite,  helleborus  doth  make 
His  vital  powers  from  deadly  slumber  wake. 
With  betony  fell  serpents  round  beset, 
Lift  up  their  heads  and  fall  to  hiss  and  spet, 


l4Eczema. 

iSThis  may  be  the  first  record  of  "brain-storm"  which  alienists  have 
lately  reckoned  upon  as  a  foundation  for  a  defense  of  murderers. 

leApparently  a  plant  having  a  tendency  to  choke  animals  of  the 
tiger  family,  according  to  popular  reports. 


THE  THIRD  DAY.  57 

With  spiteful  fury  in  their  sparkling  eyes 

Breaking  all  truce  with  infinite  defies. 

Puffed  up  with  rage,  to't  by  the  ears  they  go, 

Bane  against  bane,  plague  against  plague  they  throw, 

Charging  each  other  with  so  fierce  a  force, 

(For  friends  turned  foes  have  lightly  least  remorse,) 

That,  wounded  all,  or  rather  all  awound, 

With  poisoned  gore  they  cover  all  the  ground, 

And  naught  can  stint  their  strange,  intestine  strife, 

But  only  th'end  of  their  detested  life. 

As  betony  breaks  friendship's  ancient  bands, 
So  willow-wort  makes  wonted  hate  shake  hands; 
For  being  fastened  to  proud  coursers'  collars 
That  fight  and  fling,  it  will  abate  their  cholers,      .     .     . 
And  horse  that,  feeding  on  the  grassy  hills 
Tread  upon  moon-wort  with  their  hollow  heels, 
Though  lately  shod,  at  night  go  barefoot  home, 
Their  master  musing  where  their  shoes  be  come. 
O  moon  wort,  tell  us  where  thou  hid'st  the  smith, 
Hammer  and  pincers  thou  unshoest  them  with. 
Alas,  what  lock  or  iron  engine  is't 
That  can  thy  subtile,  secret  strength  resist, 
Since  the  best  farrier  cannot  set  a  shoe 
So  sure  but  thou  so  shortly  canst  undo? 

But  I  suppose  not  that  the  earth  doth  yield 
In  hill  or  dale,  in  forest  or  in  field, 
A  rarer  plant  than  Candian  dittany, 
Which,  wounded  deer  eating,  immediately 
Not  only  cures  their  wounds  exceeding  well, 
But  'gainst  the  shooter  doth  the  shaft  repel. 
Moreover,  Lord,  is't  not  a  work  of  Thine 
That  everywhere,  in  every  turf,  we  find 
Such  multitude  of  other  plants  to  spring 
In  form,  effect  and  color,  differing? 
And  each  of  them,  in  their  due  seasons  ta'en 
To  one  is  physic,  to  another  bane; 
Now  gentle;  sharp  anon;  now  good,  then  ill; 
What  cureth  now,  the  same  anon  doth  kill. 
Th'herb,  sagapen,  serves  the  slow  ass  for  meat, 


58  BUILDING  THE  WORLD. 

But  kills  the  ox  if  of  the  same  he  eat. 
So  branched  hemlock  for  the  stares17  is  fit, 
But  death  to  man  if  he  but  taste  of  it; 
And  oleander  unto  beasts  is  poison 
But  unto  mail  a  special  counter-poison. 

What  ranker  poison,  what  more  deadly  bane 
Than  aconite  can  there  be  touched,  or  ta'en? 
And  yet  his  juice  but  cures  the  burning  bite 
Of  stinging  serpents,  if  applied  to  it. 

0  valiant  venom!     O  courageous  plant! 
Disdainful  poison,  noble  combatant, 

That  scorneth  aid,  and  loves  alone  to  fight, 
That  none  partake  the  glory  of  his  might. 
For  if  he  find  our  bodies  prepossessed 
With  other  poison,  then  he  leaves  the  rest, 
And  with  his  rival  enters  secret  duel, 
One  to  one,  strong  to  strong,  cruel  to  cruel, 
Still  fighting  fierce,  and  never  overgive 
Till  they,  both  dying,  give  man  leave  to  live. 
And  to  conclude,  whether  I  walk  the  fields, 
Rush  through  the  woods,  or  clamber  up  the  hills, 

1  find  God  everywhere.     Thence  all  depend. 
He  giveth  frankly  what  we  thankf'ly  spend. 
Here  for  our  food  millions  of  flowery  grains 
With  long  mustachios  Wave  upon  the  plains; 
Here  thousand  fleeces,  fit  for  princes'  robes, 
In  Serean  forests  hang  in  silken  globes; 
Here  shrubs  of  Malta,  for  my  meaner  use, 
The  fine  white  balls  of  bombace18  do  produce; 
Here  th'azure  flowered  flax  is  finely  spun 

For  finest  linen  by  the  Belgian  nun; 
Here  fatal  hemp,  which  Denmark  doth  afford, 
Doth  furnish  us  with  canvas  and  with  cord, 
Cables  and  sails,  that,  winds  assisting  either, 
We  may  acquaint  the  east  and  west  together, 
And  dryfoot  dance  on  Neptune's  watery  front, 


iTStarlings. 
iSGotton. 


THE  THIRD  DAY.  59 

And  in  adventure  lead  whole  towns  upon't. 
Here,  of  one  grain  of  maize,  a  reed  doth  spring 
That,  thrice  a  year,  five  hundred  grains  doth  bring, 
Which,  after,  th'Indians  parch  and  pound  and  knead, 
And  thereof  make  them  a  most  wholesome  bread. 

Th'almighty  Voice  which  built  this  mighty  ball 
Still,  still  resounds  and  echoes  over  all, 
And  that  alone  yearly  the  world  revives; 
Through  that  alone  all  springs,  all  lives,  all  thrives; 
And  that  alone  makes  that  our  mealy  grain 
Our  skillful  seedman  scatters  not  in  vain, 
But  being  covered  by  the  toothful  harrow, 
Or  hid  awhile  under  the  folded  furrow, 
Rots  to  revive;  and  warmly  wet,  puts  forth19 
Its  root  beneath,  its  bud  above  the  earth; 
Enriching  shortly  with  its  springing  crop 
The  ground  with  green,  the  husbandman  with  hope. 
The  bud  becomes  a  blade,  the  blade  a  reed, 
The  reed  an  ear,  the  ear  another  seed; 
The  seed,  to  shut  the  wasteful  sparrows  out, 
In  harvest  hath  a  stand  of  pikes  about, 
And  chaffy  husks  in  hollow  cods  enclose  it, 
Lest  heat,  wet,  wind  should  roast  or  rot  or  lose  it, 
And  lest  the  straw  should  not  sustain  the  ear, 
With  knotty  joints  'tis  sheathed  here  and  there. 

Pardon  me,  reader,  if  thy  ravished  eyes 
Have  seen  today  too  great  varieties 
Of  trees,  of  flowers,  of  fruit,  of  herbs,  of  grains 
In  these,  my  groves,  meads,  orchards,  gardens,  plains, 
Since  th'isle  of  Cebu's  admirable  tree 
Beareth  a  fruit,  called  cocos  commonly, 
The  which  alone  far  richer  wonders  yields 
Than  all  our  groves,  meads,  orchards,  gardens,  fields. 
What,  wouldst  thou  drink?    The  wounded  leaves  drop 

wine. 

Lack'st  thou  fine  linen?    Dress  the  tender  rind, — 
Dress  it  like  flax ;  spin  it  and  weave  it  well ; 

i9See  Par.  Lost,  VII,  280. 


60  BUILDING  THE  WORLD. 

It  shall  thy  cambric  and  thy  lawn  excel. 

Long'st  thou  for  butter?     Bite  the  pulpy  part, 

And  never  better  came  to  any  mart. 

Needest  thou  oil?     Then  bolt  it  to<  and  fro, 

And  passing  oil  it  soon  becometh  so. 

Or  vinegar,  to  whet  thine  appetite? 

Then  sun  it  well  and  it  will  sharply  bite. 

Or  want'st  thou  sugar?    Steep  the  same  a  stound, 

And  sweeter  sugar  is  not  to  be  found. 

'Tis  what  you  will,  or  will  be  what  you  would. 

Should  Midas  touch  it  'twould,  I  think,  be  gold; 

And  God,  I  think,  to  crown  our  life  with  joys, 

The  earth  with  plenty  and  His  name  with  praise, 

Had  done  enough  if  He  had  made  no  more 

Than  this  one  plant,  so  full  of  wondrous  store ; 

Save  that  the  world,  when  one  thing  breeds  satiety, 

Could  not  be  fair  without  so  great  variety. 

But  earth  not  only  on  her  back  doth  bear 
Abundant  treasures,  glistering  everywhere, 
But  inwardly  she's  no  less  fraught  with  riches, 
Nay,  rather  more,  which  more  our  souls  bewitches. 
Within  the  deep  folds  of  her  fruitful  lap 
Such  boundless  mines  of  treasure  doth  she  wrap 
That  the  hungry  hands  of  human  avarice 
Cannot  exhaust  with  labor  or  device. 
For  they  be  more  than  there  be  stars  in  heaven, 
Or  stormy  billows  on  the  ocean  driven, 
Or  ears  of  corn  in  autumn  on  the  fields, 
Or  savage  beasts  upon  a  thousand  hills, 
Or  fishes  diving  in  the  silver  floods, 
Or  scattered  leaves  in  winter  in  the  woods.20 

Slate,  jet  and  marble  shall  escape  my  pen; 
I  overpass  the  salt  mount  Orimene; 
I  blench  the  brine-quar  hill  in  Arragon, 
Whence  there  they  powder  their  provision. 
I'll  only  now  emboss  my  book  with  brass, 


20"Thick  as  leaves  in  Vallombrosa,"  according  to  the  popular  perver- 
sion of  lines  302  and  303,  Book  I  of  Paradise  Lost. 


THE  THIRD  DAY.  61 

Dye't  with  vermilion,   deck't  with  copperas, 
With  gold  and  silver,  lead  and  mercury, 
Tin,  iron,  orpine,  stigium,  lethargy; 
And  on  my  gold-work  I  will  only  place 
The  crystal  pure  which  doth  reflect  each  face, 
The  precious  ruby  of  a  sanguine  hue, 
The  seal-fit  onyx  and  the  sapphire  blue, 
The  chalcedony,  full  of  circles  round, 
The  tender  topaz  and  rich  diamond, 
The  various  opal  and  green  emerald, 
The  agate  by  a  thousand  titles  called, 
The  sky-like  turquoise,  purple  amethysts, 
And  fiery  carbuncle,  which  flame  resists. 

I  know  to  man  the  earth  seems  altogether 
No  more  a  mother,  but  a  step-dame,  rather, 
Because,  alas,  unto  our  loss  she  bears 
Bloodshedding  steel  and  gold,  the  ground  of  cares, 
As  if  these  metals,  and  not  man  amiss, 
Had  made  sin  mount  unto  the  height  it  is ; 
But  as  the  sweet  bait  of  abundant  riches 
Bodies  and  souls  of  greedy  men  bewitches, 
Gold  gilds  the  virtuous,  and  it  lends  them  wings 
To  raise  their  thoughts  unto  the  rarest  things. 
The  wise  not  only  iron  will  apply 
For  household  turns,  and  tools  of  husbandry, 
But  to  defend  their  country  when  it  calls, 
From  foreign  dangers  and  intestine  brawls. 
But  with  the  same  the  wicked  never  mell 
But  to  do  service  to  the  hags  of  hell; 
To  pick  a  lock,  to  take  a  neighbor's  purse, 
To  break  a  house  or  to  do  something  worse, — 
To  cut  a  parent's  throat,  to  kill  his  prince, 
To  spoil  his  country,  murdering  innocents. 
Even  so,  profaning  of  a  gift  divine, 
The  drunkard  drowns  his  reason  in  the  wine. 
So  sale-tongued  lawyers,  wresting  eloquence, 
Excuse  rich  wrong,  and  cast  poor  innocence; 
So  antichrists,  their  poison  to  infuse 


62  BUILDING  THE  WORLD. 

Miscite  the  scriptures  and  God's  name  abuse.21  . 
So  God's  best  gifts,  usurped  by  wicked  ones, 
To  poison  turn,  through  their  contagions. 

But  shall  I  balk  th'admired  adamant 
Whose  dead-live  power  my  reason's  power  doth  daunt? 
Renowned  loadstone  which  on  iron  acts, 
And  by  a  touch  the  same  aloof  attracts, — 
Attracts  it  strangely  with  unclasping  crooks, 
With  unknown  cords,  with  unconceived  hooks, 
With  unseen  hands,  with  undiscerned  arms, 
With  hidden  force,  with  sacred,  secret  charms, 
Wherewith  he  woos  his  iron  mistress 
And  never  leaves  her  till  he  gets  a  kiss; 
Nay,  till  he  folds  her  in  his  faithful  bosom, 
Never  to  part,  except  we,  loveless,  loose  'em, 
With  so  firm  zeal  and  fast  affection 
The  stone  doth  love  the  steel,  the  steel  the  stone. 
And  though  some  time  some  make-bate  come  betwixt, 
Still  burns  their  first  flame,  'tis  so  surely  fixed ; 
And  while  they  cannot  meet  to  break  their  minds, 
With  mutual  skips  they  show  their  love  by  signs, 
As  bashful  suitors,  seeing  strangers  by,22 
Parley  in  silence  with  the  hand  or  eye. 

Who  can  conceive  or  censure  in  what  sort 
One  loadstone-touched  amulet  doth  transport 
Another  iron  ring,  and  that  another 
Till  four  or  five  hang  dangling  one  from  other? 
Great  as  Apollo  might  he  be,  methinks, 
Could  tell  the  reason  of  those  hanging  links; 
Since  reason-scanners  have  resolved,  all, 
That  heavy  things,  hanged  in  the  air,  must  fall. 

I  am  not  ignorant  that  he  who  seeks 
In  Roman  robes  to  suit  the  sagest  Greeks, — 
Whose  jealous  wife,  weening  to  home  revoke  him 
With  a  love  potion,  did  with  poison  choke  him, — 


2i"The  devil  can  cite  scripture  for  his  purpose." — Merch.  of  Venice, 
1,  2. 
22An  interpolated  couplet. 


THE  THIRD  DAY.  63 

Hath  sought  to  show,  with  arguing  subtility, 

The  secret  cause  of  this  rare  sympathy. 

But  say,  Lucretius,  what's  the  hidden  cause 

That  toward  the  north  star  the  needle  draws 

Whose  point  is  touched  with  loadstone?     Loose  this 

knot, 

And  still  green  laurel  shall  be  still  thy  lot ; 
Yea,  thee  more  learned  will  I  then  confess 
Than  Epicurus  or  Empedocles. 

We're  not  to  Ceres  so  much  bound  for  bread, 
Neither  to  Bacchus  for  his  clusters  red, 
As,  Signor  Flavio,  to  thy  witty  trial, 
For  first  inventing  of  the  seaman's  dial,     .     .     . 
Whereby,  through  th'ocean,  in  the  darkest  m\ght, 
Our  hugest  carracks  are  conducted  right,     .... 
Whereby  a  ship  that  stormy  heavens  have  whirled 
Near  in  one  night  into  another  world, 
Knows  where  she  is,  and  in  the  card  descries 
What  degrees  thence  the  equinoctial  lies. 

Clear-sighted  spirits  that  cheer  with  sweet  aspect21 
My  other  rhymes,  though  subject  to  defect, — 
If  in  this  volume,  as  you  over-read  it, 
You  meet  some  things  that  seem  to  pass  all  credit, 
Because,  perhaps,  here  proved  yet  by  no  man, 
Their  strange  effects  be  not  in  knowledge  common; 
Think  that  to  some  the  loadstone's  use  is  new, 
And  seems  as  strange  as  we  have  tried  it  true. 
Let,  therefore,  that  which  iron  draws,  draw  such 
To  credit  more  than  what  they  see  and  touch. 

Nor  is  th'earth  only  worthy  praise  eternal, 
For  the  rare  riches  on  her  back  external, 
Or  in  her  bosom ;  but  her  own  self's  worth 
Solicits  me  to  sound  her  glory  forth. 
I  call  to  witness  all  those  weak  diseased 
Whose  bodies  oft  have  by  th'effect  been  eased 
Of  Lenmos'  sealed  earth,  or  Eretrian  soil, 
Or  that  of  Chios,  or  of  Melos'  isle. 


23Ten  lines  interpolated. 


64  BUILDING  THE  WORLD. 

All  hail,  fair  earth,  bearer  of  towns  and  towers, 
Of  men,  gold,  grain,  physic  and  fruits  and  flowers ! 
Fair,  firm  and  fruitful,  various,  patient,  sweet, 
Sumptuously  clothed  in  a  mantle  meet 
Of  mingled  color;  laced  about  with  floods, 
And  all  embroidered  with  fresh-blooming  buds, 
With  rarest  gems  richly  about  embossed, 
Excelling  cunning  and  exceeding  cost. 

All  hail,  great  heart,  round  base  and  steadfast  root 
Of  all  the  world  !24    The  world's  strong,  fixed  foot ! 
Heaven's  chastest  spouse!     Supporter  of  this  all! 
This  glorious  building's  goodly  pedestal! 
All  hail,  dear  mother,  sister,  hostess,  nurse, 
Sovereign  of  all  worlds !     Of  thy  liberal  purse 
We're  all  maintained.     Matchless  emperess, 
To  do  thee  service  with  all  readiness, 
The  spheres  before  thee  bear  ten  thousand  torches ; 
The  fire  to  warm  thee  folds  his  heatful  arches 
In  purest  flames  about  the  floating  cloud. 
Th'air,  to  refresh  thee,  willingly  is  bowed 
About  the  waves,  and  well  content  to  suffer 
Mild  Zephyr's  blasts,  and  Boreas'  billowing  rougher. 
Water,  to  quench  thy  thirst,  about  thy  mountains 
Wraps  her  moist  arms, — seas,  rivers,  lakes  and  foun- 
tains.    .     .     . 

O  thrice,  thrice  happy  he  who  shuns  the  cares25 
Of  city  troubles  and  of  state  affairs, 
And,  serving  Ceres,  tills  with  his  own  team 
His  own  free  land,  left  by  his  friends  to  him ! 

Never  pale  envy's  poisonous  heads  do  hiss 
To  gnaw  his  heart,  nor  vulture  avarice. 
His  field's  bounds  bound  his  thoughts.     He  never  sups 
For  nectar,  poison  mixed  in  silver  cups; 
Neither  in  golden  platters  doth  he  lick, 
For  sweet  ambrosia,  deadly  arsenic. 
His  hand's  his  bowl, — better  than  plate  or  glass, — 


24Meaning  the  visible  universe. 
25Compare  Pope's  "Ode  on  Solitude." 


THE  THIRD  DAY.  65 

The  silver  brook  his  sweetest  hippocras. 

Milk,  cheese  and  fruits,  fruits  of  his  own  endeavor, 

Dressed  without  dressing,  hath  he  ready  ever. 

False  counselors — concealers — of  the  law, 
Turn-coat  attorneys  that  with  both  hands  draw, 
Sly  pettifoggers,  wranglers  at  the  bar, 
Proud  purse-leeches,  harpies  of  Westminster, 
With  feigned  chiding  and  foul  jarring  noise 
Rack  not  his  brain  nor  interrupt  his  joys ; 
But  cheerful  birds,  chirping  him  sweet  good  morrows26 
With  nature's  music  do  beguile  his  sorrows, 
Teaching  the  fragrant  forests,  day  by  day, 
The  diapason  of  their  heavenly  lay. 

His  wandering  vessel,  reeling  to  and  fro 
On  th'ireful  ocean,  as  the  winds  do  blow, 
With  sudden  tempest  is  not  overwhirled 
To  seek  his  sad  death  in  another  world; 
But  leading  all  his  life  at  home  in  peace, 
Always  in  sight  of  his  own  smoke;  no  seas, — 
No  other  seas  he  knows,  nor  other  torrent 
Than  that  which  waters  with  its  silver  current 
His  native  meadows;  and  that  very  earth 
Shall  give  him  burial  which  first  gave  him  birth. 

To  summon  timely  sleep  he  doth  not  need 
Ethiop's  cold  rush,  nor  drowsy  poppy  seed,     .     .     . 
But  on  green  carpets,  thrummed  with  mossy  beaver, 
Fringing  the  round  skirts  of  his  winding  river, 
The  stream's  mild  murmur,  as  it  gently  gushes,17 
His  healthy  limbs  in  quiet  slumber  hushes. 

Drum,  fife  and  trumpet,  with  their  loud  alarms, 
Make  him  not  start  out  of  his  sleep  to  arms; 
Nor  dear  respect  of  some  great  general 
Him  from  his  bed  unto  the  block  doth  call. 
Tne  crested  cock  sings  "Hunt  is  up!"  to  him, 
Limits  his  rest,  and  makes  him  stir  betime, 


26"The  lark     ...     to  come  in  spite  of  sorrow 

And  at  my  window  bid  Good  morrow." — L'Allegro. 
27" And  gushing  brooks." — Lycidas. 


66  BUILDING  THE  WORLD. 

To  walk  the  mountains  or  the  flowery  meads, 
Impearled  with  tears  that  sweet  Aurora  sheds.      .     .     . 

His  wretched  years  in  princes'  courts  he  spends  not, 
His  thralled  will  on  great  men's  wills  depends  not; 
He,  changing  master,  doth  not  change  at  once 
His  faith, — religion  and  his  God  renounce; — 
With  mercenary  lies  he  doth  not  chant, 
Praising  an  emmet  for  an  elephant, — 
Sardanapalus,  drowned  in  soft  excess, 
For  a  triumphant,  virtuous  Hercules; 
Thersites  foul  for  Venus'  lovely  Love, 
And  every  changeling  for  a  turtle  dove ; 
Nor  lavishes  in  his  lascivious  lays 
On  wanton  Flora  chaste  Alcestis'  praise; 
But  all  self-private,  serving  God,  he  writes 
Fearless,  and  sings  but  what  his  heart  indites. 

No  sallow  fear  doth  day  and  night  afflict  him ; 
Unto  no  fraud  doth  day  or  night  addict  him ; 
Or  if  he  muse  on  guile,  'tis  but  to  get 
Beast,  bird  or  fish,  in  toil  or  snare  or  net. 

What  though  his  wardrobe  be  not  stately  stuffed 
With  sumptuous  silks,  pinked  and  pounced  and  puffed, 
With  gold  ground  velvets  and  with  silver  tissue 
And  all  the  glory  of  old  Eve's  proud  issue? 
What  though  his  feeble  coffers  be  not  crammed 
With  misers'  idols,  golden  ingots,  rammed? 
He  is  warm  wrapped  in  his  own  grown  wool ; 
Of  unbought  wines  his  cellar's  ever  full; 
His  garner's  stored  with  grain,  his  ground  with  flocks, 
His  barns  with  fodder,  with  sweet  streams  his  rocks.  .  . 
Let  me,  good  Lord,  among  the  great  unkenned, 
My  rest  of  days  in  the  calm  country  end.  . 
Be  Hadley  pond  my  sea,   Lambsbourn  my  Thames,28 
Lambourn  my  London,  Rennet's  silver  streams 
My  fruitful  Nile;  my  singers  and  musicians 


28These  concluding  lines  are  substituted  by  the  translator  for  sim- 
ilar ones  in  the  original,  in  which  the  reference  is  to  the  estates  of 
the  author.  The  half  dozen  closing  lines  of  the  French  make  a  pretty 


THE  THIRD  DAY.  67 

The  pleasant  birds,  with  warbling  repetitions; 
My  company  pure  thoughts  to  work  Thy  will, 
My  court  a  cottage  on  a  lowly  hill, 
Where  without  let  I  may  so  sing  Thy  name 
That  times  to  come  may  wonder  at  the  same. 
Or  if  the  new  North  Star,  my  sovereign  James, 
The  secret  virtue  of  whose  sacred  beams 
Attracts  th'attentive  service  of  all  such 
Whose  minds  did  ever  virtue's  loadstone  touch, 
Shall  ever  deign  t'invite  mine  humble  fate 
T'approach  the  presence  of  his  royal  state; 
Or  if  my  duty  or  the  grace  of  nobles 
Shall  drive  or  draw  me  near  their  pleasing  troubles, 
Let  not  their  favors  make  me  drunk  with  folly; 
In  their  commands  still  keep  my  conscience  holy ; 
Let  me  true  honor,  not  the  false,  delight, 
And  play  the  preacher,  not  the  parasite. 


rural  picture,  as  follows:  — 

"Mon  etang  soil  ma  mer,  mon  bosquet  mon  Ardene, 
La  Gimone  mon  Nil,  le  Sarrampin  ma  Seine: 
Mes  chantres  et  mes  Lues  les  mignards  oiselfis: 
Mon  cher  Bartas  mon  Louvre:   et  ma  cour  mes  va!6s: 
Ou  sans  nul  dStourbier  si  bien  ton  los  i'entone, 
Que  la  race  future  a  bon  droit  s'en  6tone." 


THE  FOURTH  DAY 


Pure  Spirit  that  rapt'st  above  the  firmest  sphere 
In  fiery  coach  thy  faithful  messenger, 
Who,  smiting  Jordan  with  his  plaited1  cloak, 
Did  erst  divide  the  waters  with  the  stroke, 
O,  take  me  up;  that  far  from  earth  I  may 
From  sphere  to  sphere  see  th'azure  heavens  to-day. 
Be  Thou  my  coachman,  and  now,  cheek  by  jowl,2 
With  Phoebus'  chariot  let  my  chariot  roll. 
Drive  on  my  coach  by  Mars's  flaming  coach; 
Saturn  and  Luna  let  my  wheels  approach; 
That,  having  learned  of  their  fire-breathing  horses, 
Their  course,  their  light,  their  labor  and  their  forces, 
My  muse  may  sing  in  sacred  eloquence 
To  virtue's  friends  their  virtuous  eloquence. 
And  with  the  loadstone  of  my  conquering  verse 
About  the  poles  attract  the  most  perverse.  . 

God's  none  of  these  faint,  idle  artisans 
Who,  at  the  best,  abandon  their  designs, 
Working  by  halves;  as  rather,  a  great  deal, 
To  do  much  quickly  than  to  do  it  well ; 
But  rather  as  a  workman  never  weary, 


Hn  the  quartos  the  spelling  is  "pleighted,"  and  the  pronunciation 
probably  made  the  vowel  sound  in  the  first  syllable  identical  with 
that  of  our  long  i.  The  word  may  have  been  related  to  "ply"  and  have 
had  the  meaning  of  "folded."  Compare  Milton's  "plighted  clouds"  in 
Comus,  line  301. 

2This  phrase  apparently  conveyed  no  ludicrous  meaning  in  its  cus- 
tomary use  in  the  16th  and  early  17th  centuries.  It  is  employed  in 
the  description  of  the  Resurrection,  in  the  first  of  these  "Days." 


70  BUILDING  THE  WORLD. 

And  all-sufficient,  He  His  works  doth  carry 

To  happy  end,  and  to  perfection 

With  sober  speed  brings  what  He  hath  begun. 

Having  therefore  the  world's  wide  curtain  spread 
About  the  circuit  of  the  fruitful  bed 
Where,  to  fill  all  with  her  unnumbered  kin, 
Kind  Nature's  self  each  moment  lieth  in, — 
To  make  the  same  forever  admirable, 
More  stately-pleasant  and  more  profitable, 
He  th'azure  tester3  trimmed  with  golden  marks 
And  richly  spangled  with  bright,  glistering  sparks. 

I  know  those  tapers,  twinkling  in  the  sky, 
Do  turn  too  swiftly  from  our  hand  and  eye; 
That  men  can  never  rightly  reach  to  seeing 
Their  course  and  force,  and  much,  much  less  their  being, 
But  if  conjecture  may  extend  above 
To  that  great  orb  whose  moving  all  doth  move, 
Th'imperfect  light  of  the  first  day  was  it 
Which  for  Heaven's  eyes  did  shining  matter  fit. 
For  God,  selecting  lightest  of  that  light, 
Garnished  heaven's  ceiling  with  those  torches  bright, 
Or  else  divided  it,  and  pressing  close 
The  parts,  did  make  the  sun  and  stars  of  those. 

But  if  thy  wit's  thirst  rather  seek  these  things 
In  Grecian  cisterns  than  in  Hebrew  springs, 
I  then  conclude  that,  as  of  moistful  matter 
God  made  the  people  that  frequent  the  water, 
And  of  an  earthly  stuff  the  stubborn  droves 
That  haunt  the  hills  and  dales  and  downs  and  groves, 
So  did  He  make  of  His  almighty  might 
Th'heavens  and  stars  of  one  same  substance  bright, 
To  th'end  these  lamps,  dispersed  in  these  skies, 
Might  with  their  orb,  it  with  them,  sympathize. 
And  as  with  us,  under  the  oaken  bark 
The  knurly  knot  with  branching  veins  we  mark 
To  be  of  substance  all  one  with  the  tree, 


3A  tester  is  such  a  canopy  as  was  formerly  placed  above  a  pulpit, 
etc.,  and  is  now  often  placed  above  beds  in  sleeping  apartments. 


THE  FOURTH  DAY.  71 

Although  far  thicker  and  more  rough  it  be, 
So  those  gilt  studs  in  th'upper  story  driven, 
Are  nothing  but  the  thickest  parts  of  heaven. 

When  I  observe  their  light  and  heat  yblent, 
Mere  accidents  of  th'upper  element, 
I  think  them  fire,  but  not  such  fire  as  lasts 
No  longer  than  the  fuel  that  it  wastes; 
For  then  I  think  all  th'elements  too  little 
To  furnish  them  with  only  one  day's  victual. 
And  therefore  smile  I  at  those  fable  forges 
Whose  busy,  idle  style  so  stiffly  urges 
The  heaven's  bright  cressets  to  be  living  creatures 
Ranging  for  food,  and  hungry  fodder  eaters, 
Still  sucking  up  in  their  eternal  motion 
The  earth  for  meat,  and  for  their  drink,  the  ocean. 

Sure  I  perceive  no  motion  in  a  star 
But  certain,  natural  and  regular; 
Whereas  beasts'  motions  infinitely  vary, 
Confused,  uncertain,  diverse,  voluntary. 
I  see  not  how  so  many  golden  posts 
Should  scud  so  swift  about  heaven's  azure  coasts, 
But  that  the  heavens  must  ope  and  shut  sometimes, 
Subject  to  passions  which  our  earthly  climes 
Alter,  and  toss  the  sea,  and  th'air  estrange, 
From  itself's  temper  with  exceeding  change. 

I  see  not  how,  in  those  sound,  blazing  beams, 
One  should  imagine  any  food-fit  limbs, 
Nor  can  I  see  how  th'earth  and  sea  should  feed 
So  many  stars,  whose  greatness  doth  exceed 
So  many  times,  if  star-divines  say  troth, 
The  greatness  of  the  earth  and  ocean  both; 
Since  here  our  cattle  in  a  month  will  eat 
Seven  times  the  bulk  of  their  own  bulk  in  meat. 

These  torches  range  not  then  at  random  o'er 
The  lightsome  thickness  of  an  unfirm  floor, 
As  here  below  diversely  moving  them 
The  painted  birds  between  two  airs  do  swim ; 
But  rather  fixed  unto  turning  spheres 
Ay,  will  they  nill  they,  follow  their  careers, 


72  BUILDING  THE  WORLD. 

As  cart  nails  fastened  in  a  wheel  without 
Self  motion,  turn  with  others'  turns  about. 

As  th'ague-sick,  upon  his  shivering  pallet 
Delays  his  health  oft  to  delight  his  palate, 
When  willfully  his  tasteless  taste  delights 
In  things  unsavory  to  sound  appetites, 
Even  so  some  brain-sicks  live  there  now-a-days 
That  lose  themselves  still  in  contrary  ways, — 
Preposterous  wits  that  cannot  row  at  ease 
On  the  smooth  channel  of  our  common  seas. 
And  such  are  those,  in  my  conceit  at  least, 
Those  clerks  that  think — think  how  absurd  a  jest ! — 
That  neither  heavens  nor  stars  do  turn  at  all, 
Nor  dance4  about  this  great,  round  earthly  ball, 
But  th' earth  itself,  this  massy  globe  of  ours, 
Turns  round  about  once  every  twice  twelve  hours, 
And  we  resemble  land-bred  novices 
New  brought  aboard  to  venture  on  the  seas; 
Who  at  first  launching  from  the  shore  suppose 
The  ship  stands  still  and  that  the  firm  earth  goes. 

So  twinkling  tapers  that  heaven's  arches  fill, 
Equally  distant  should  continue  still. 
So  never  should  an  arrow  shot  upright 
In  the  same  place  upon  the  shooter  light; 
But  would  do  rather  as  at  sea  a  stone 
Aboard  a  ship  upward  uprightly  thrown, 
Which  not  within-board  falls,  but  in  the  flood 
Astern  the  ship  if  so  the  wind  be  good.5 
So  should  the  fowls  that  take  their  nimble  flight 
From  western  marshes  towards  heaven's  light, 
And  Zephyrus,  that  in  the  summer  time 
Delights  to  visit  Eurus  in  his  clime, 
And  bullets  thundered  from  the  cannon's  throat, 


4"Dance"  implied  orderly  movement,  and  is  repeatedly  used  by 
Milton  in  that  sense,  especially  as  relating  to  the  heavens.  See  Par. 
Lost,  VII,  374;  VIII,  125. 

Bit  is  curious  that  what  is  here  assumed  to  be  a  fact  could  have  been 
proved  error  by  a  perfectly  easy  experiment,  within  the  scope  of  the 
daily  life  of  every  sailor,  especially.  And  Sylvester  had  been  a  sailor 
all  his  days  up  to  the  time  that  he  turned  writer. 


THE  FOURTH  DAY.  73 

Whose  roaring  drowns  the  heavenly  thunder's  note, 
Should  back  recoil;  sithence  the  quick  career 
That  our  round  earth  should  daily  gallop  here 
Must  needs  exceed  a  hundred  fold  for  swift 
Birds,  bullets,  winds;  their  wings,  their  force,  their  drift. 

Armed  with  these  reasons,  'twere  superfluous 
T'assail  the  reasons  of  Copernicus, 
Who,  to  solve  better  of  the  stars'  appearance 
Unto  the  earth  a  three-fold  motion  warrants, 
Making  the  sun  the  center  of  this  all, 
Moon,  earth  and  water  in  one  only  ball. 
But  sithence  here  nor  time  nor  place  doth  suit 
His  paradox  at  length  to  prosecute, 
I  will  proceed,  grounding  my  next  discourse 
On  th'heaven's  motions,  and  their  constant  course. 

Greatness  I  oft  admire  of  mighty  hills, 
And  pleasant  beauty  of  the  flowery  fields, 
And  countless  number  of  the  ocean's  sand, 
And  secret  force  of  sacred  adamant ; 
But  much,  much  more,  the  more  I  mark  their  course, 
Stars'  glistering  greatness,  beauty,  number,  force. 

Even  as  a  peacock,  pricked  with  love's  desire, 
To  woo  his  mistress,  strutting  stately6  by  her, 
Spreads  round  the  rich  pride  of  his  pompous  veil, 
His  azure  wings  and  golden  starry  tail, 
With  rattling  pinions  wheeling  still  about, 
The  more  to  let  his  beauteous  beauty  out, — 
The  firmament,  as  feeling  like  above, 
Displays  its  pomp;  pranceth  about  its  love, 
Spreads  its  blue  curtain  mixed  with  golden  marks, 
Set  with  gilt  spangles,  sown  with  glittering  sparks, 
Sprinkled  with  eyes,   specked  with  tapers  bright, 
Powdered  with  stars,  streaming  with  glorious  light, 
T'inflame  the  earth  the  more,  with  lover's  grace, 
To  take  the  sweet  fruit  of  his  kind  embrace. 

He  that  to  number  all  the  stars  would  seek, 
Had  need  invent  some  new  arithmetic; 


6See  L' Allegro,  line  52. 


74  BUILDING  THE  WORLD. 

And  who  to  count  that  reckoning  takes  in  hand 

Had  need  for  counters  take  the  ocean's  sand; 

Yet  have  our  wise  and  learned  elders  found 

Four  dozen  figures  in  the  heavenly  round 

For  aid  of  memory;  and  to  our  eyes 

In  certain  houses  to  divide  the  skies. 

Of  those  are  twelve  in  that  rich  girdle  greft7 

Which  God  gave  Nature  for  a  New  Year's  gift, — 

When,  making  all,  His  voice  almighty  most 

Gave  so  fair  laws  unto  heaven's  shining  host — 

To  wear  it  bias,  buckled  overthwart  her 

Not  round  about  her  swelling  waist  to  gird  her. 

This  glorious  baldric,8  of  a  golden  tinge, 
Embossed  with  rubies,  edged  with  silver  fringe, 
Buckled  with  gold,  with  a  bend  glistering  bright, 
Heaven  bias-wise  environs  day  and  night. 
For,  from  the  period  when  the  Ram9  doth  bring 
The  day  and  night  to  equal  balancing, 
Ninety  degrees  towards  the  north  it  winds, 
Thence  just  as  much  toward  mid-heaven  it  bends, 
As  many  thence  toward  the  south,  and  thence 
To'ards  the  year's  portal10  the  like  difference. 

Nephelean  crook-horn,  with  brass  comets  crowned, 
Thou  buttest  bravely  'gainst  the  New  Year's  bound, 
And  richly  clad  in  thy  fair  golden  fleece, 
Dost  hold  the  first  house  in  heaven's  spacious  mese. 
Thou  spiest  anon  the  Bull  behind  thy  back, 
Who,  lest  that  fodder  by  the  way  he  lack, 
Seeing  the  world  so  naked,  to  renew't 
Coats  th'infant  earth  in  a  green,  gallant  suit, 
And  without  plow  or  yoke  doth  freely  fling 
Through  fragrant  pastures  of  the  flowery  spring-. 
The  Twins,  whose  heads,  arms,  shoulders,  knees  and  feet 
God  filled  with  stars  to  shine  in  season  sweet, 


TEngraved. 

sin  Drake's  "American  Flag"  the  "Baldric  of  the  Skies"  is  mentioned 
as  a  source  of  the  national  colors. 

9Of  course  the  reference  is  to  the  constellation,  "Aries." 
lOThe  English  calendar  year  at  that  time  began  late  in  March. 


THE  FOURTH  DAY.  75 

Contend  in  course  who  first  the  Bull  shall  catch, 
That  neither  will  nor  may  attend  their  match. 
Then  summer's  guide,  the  Crab  comes  rowing  soft 
With  his  eight  oars  through  th'heaven's  azure  loft, 
To  bring  us  yearly,  in  his  starry  shell, 
Many  long  days  the  shaggy  earth  to  swell. 

Almost  with  like  pace  leaps  the  Lion  out 
All  clad  with  flames,  bristled  with  beams  about, 
Who,  with  contagion  of  his  burning  breath, 
Both  grass  and  grain  to  cinders  withereth. 
The  Virgin  next,  sweeping  heaven's  azure  globe 
With  stately  train  of  her  bright,  golden  robe, 
Mild,  proudly  marching,  in  her  left  hand  brings 
A  sheaf  of  corn,  and  in  her  right  hand,  wings. 
After  the  Maiden  shines  the  Balance  bright, 
Equal  divider  of  the  day  and  night,u 
In  whose  gold  beam  with  three  gold  rings  there  fastens 
With  six  gold  strings  a  pair  of  golden  basins. 

The  spiteful  Scorpion,  next  the  Scale  addressed, 
With  two  bright  lamps  covers  his  loathsome  breast, 
And  fain  from  both  ends  with  his  double  sting 
Would  spet  his  venom  over  everything. 
But  that  the  brave  half-horse  Phylirian  Scout,12 
Galloping  swift  the  heavenly  belt  about, 
Ay  fiercely  threats  with  his  flame-feathered  arrow 
To  shoot  the  sparkling,  starry  viper  thorow. 
And  th'hoary  Centaur,  during  all  his  race, 
Is  so  attentive  to  this  only  chase, 
That,  dreadless  of  his  dart,  heaven's  shining  Kid 
Comes  jumping  light,  just  at  his  heels  unsped. 

Meanwhile  the  Skinker13  from  his  starry  spout 
After  the  Goat  a  silvery  stream  pours  out, 
Distilling  still  out  of  his  radiant  fire 
Rivers  of  water — who  but  will  admire? — 
In  whose  clear  channel  might  at  pleasure  swim 


HThat  is  to  say,  the  autumnal  equinox  occurs  when  the  sun  has 
entered  the  constellation,  "Libra." 
i2Sagittarius. 
13Aquarius. 


76  BUILDING  THE  WORLD. 

Those  two  bright  Fishes  that  do  follow  him, 
But  that  the  torrent  slides  so  swift  away 
That  it  outruns  them  ever,  even  as  they 
Outrun  the  Ram,  who  ever  them  pursues, 
And  by  renewing  yearly,  all  renews. 

Besides  these  twelve,  toward  the  arctic  side 
A  flaming  Dragon  doth  two  Bears  divide; 
After,  the  Wainman  comes,  the  Crown,  the  Spear, 
The  Kneeling  Youth,  the  Harp,  the  Hamperer 
Of  th'hateful  Snake, — whether  we  call  the  same 
By  Esculapius'  or  Alcides'  name, — 
Swift  Pegasus,  the  Dolphin,  (loving  man,14) 
Jove's  stately  Eagle,  and  the  silver  Swan, 
Andromeda,  with  Cassiopeia  near  her, 
Her  father  Cepheus  and  her  Perseus  dearer, 
The  shining  Triangle,  Medusa's  Tress, 
And  the  bright  Coachman  of  Tyndarides. 

Toward  th'other  pole  Orion,  Eridanus 
The  Whale,  the  Whelp,  and  hot-breathed  Sirius, 
The  Hare,  the  Hulk,  the  Hydra  and  the  Bowl, 
The  Centaur,  Wolf,  the  Censer  and  the  Fowl, 
The  twice  foul  Raven,  the  Southern  Fish,  and  Crown 
Through  heaven's  bright  arches  brandish  up  and  down. 

Thus  on  this  day  working,  th'eighth  azure  tent15 
With  artless  art,  divinely  excellent, 
Th'Almighty's  ringer  fixed  many  a  million 
Of  golden  'scutcheons  in  that  rich  pavilion, 
But  in  the  rest,  under  that  glorious  heaven, 
But  one  apiece  unto  the  several  seven  ;16 
Lest  of  those  lamps  the  number-passing  number 
Should  mortal  eyes  with  such  confusion  cumber 
That  we  should  never,  in  the  clearest  night, 
Stars'  divers  courses  see  or  discern  aright. 

And  therefore  also  all  the  fixed  tapers 
He  made  to  twinkle  with  such  trembling  capers; 


^Referring  to  Arion's  adventure. 

i5Again  alluding  to  the  supposed  structure  of  spheres  in  the  vis- 
ible universe. 
l6One  sphere  for  each  of  the  "seven  planets." 


THE  FOURTH  DAY.  77 

But  the  seven  lights  that  wander  under  them 

Through  various  passage  never  shake  a  beam; 

Or  He  perhaps  made  them  not  different, 

But  th'host  of  sparks  spread  through  the  firmament 

Far  from  our  sense,  through  distance  infinite, 

Seems  but  to  twinkle  to  our  twinkling  sight; 

Whereas  the  rest,  nearer  a  thousand-fold 

To  th'earth  and  sea,  we  do  more  brim17  behold. 

For  th'heavens  are  not  mixedly  interlaced, 

But  th'undermost  by  th'upper  be  embraced, 

And  more  or  less  their  roundels  wider  are, 

As  from  the  center  they  be  near  or  far; 

As  in  an  egg  the  shell  includes  the  skin, 

The  skin   the  white,  the  white  the  yolk  within. 

Now,  as  the  wind,  buffing  upon  a  hill 
With  roaring  breath  against  a  ready  mill, 
Whirls  with  a  whiff  the  sails  of  swelling  clout, 
The  sails  do  swing  the  winged  shaft  about, 
The  shaft  the  wheel,  the  wheel  the  trendle  turns, 
And  that  the  stone  which  grinds  the  floury  corns; 
Or  like  as  also  in  a  clock  well  tended, 
Just  counterpoise  justly  thereon  suspended, 
Makes  the  great  wheel  go  round,  and  that  anon18 
Turns  with  its  turning  many  a  meaner  one, 
The  trembling  watch  and  th'iron  maul  that  chimes 
The  entire  day  in  twice  twelve  equal  times, 
So  the  grand  heaven  in  four  and  twenty  hours, 
Surveying  all  this  various  house  of  ours, 
With  his  quick  motion  all  the  spheres  doth  move 
Whose  radiant  glances  gild  the  world  above, 
And  drives  them  every  day,  which  swiftness  strange  is, 
From  Gange  to  Tagus  and  from  Tay  to  Ganges. 

But  th'  under-orbs,  as  grudging  to  be  still 
So  straitly  subject  to  another's  will, 
Still  without  change,  still  at  another's  pleasure, 


iTMiddle  English  "breme"  is  defined  as  "sharp,  cruel,  severe."  It 
would  seem  to  have  had  also  the  meaning,  "conspicuous,"  and  was 
occasionally  written  as  above,  and  sometimes  "brlmme." 

i8"Then  to  the  well-trod  stage  anon." — L'Allegro. 


78  BUILDING  THE  WORLD. 

After  one  pipe  to  dance  one  only  measure, 
They  from-ward  turn,  and  traversing  aside, 
Each  by  himself  an  oblique  course  doth  slide  ;19 
So  that  they  all,  although  it  seem  not  so, 
Forward  and  backward  at  an  instant  go, 
Both  up  and  down  and  with  contrary  paces, 
At  once  they  post  to  two  contrary  places. 
(Like  as  myself,  in  my  lost  merchant  years,20 — 
A  loss,  alas,  that  in  these  lines  appears, — 
Wafting  to  Brabant  England's  golden  fleece, 
A  richer  prize  than  Jason  brought  to  Greece, 
While  toward  the  sea  our  then  swan-poorer  Thames 
Bore  down  my  bark  upon  her  ebbing  streams, 
Upon  the  hatches,  from  the  prow  to  poop 
Walking,  in  compass  of  that  narrow  coop, 
Maugre  the  most  that  wind  and  tide  could  do, 
Have  gone  at  once  towards  Lee  and  London  too.) 

But  now  the  nearer  any  of  these  eight 
Approach  th'  empyreal  palace  walls  in  height, 
The  more  their  circuit,  and  more  days  they  spend 
Ere  they  return  unto  their  journey's  end. 
It's  therefore  thought  that  sumptuous  canopy 
The  which  th'unniggard  hand  of  Majesty 
Powdered  so  thick  with  shields  so  shining  clear 
Spends  in  its  voyage  nigh  seven  thousand  year. 

Ingenious  Saturn,  spouse  of  memory, 
Father  of  th'age  of  gold,  though  coldly  dry, 
Silent  and  sad,  bald,  hoary,  wrinkled-faced, 
Yet  art  thou  first  among  the  planets  placed, 
And  thirty  years  thy  leaden  coach  doth  run 
Ere  it  arrive  where  thy  career  begun.21 
Thou,  rich,  benign,  ill-chasing  Jupiter 
Art  rightly  next  thy  father, — sickle  bearer, — 


i9Sylvester's  marginal  note  says: — "Each  of  the  eight  heavens  so 
transported  by  the  primum  mobile  hath  also  his  proper  oblique  and 
distinct  course. 

20This  parenthesis  is  an  interpolation. 

2i"Thy  (the  moon's)   pale  career." — II  Penseroso. 


THE  FOURTH  DAY.  79 

And  while  thou  dost  with  thy  more  mild  aspect 
His  froward  beams'  disastrous  frowns  correct, 
Thy  tinnen  chariot,  shod  with  burning  bosses, 
Through  twice  six  signs  in  twice  six  twelve-months 
crosses. 

Brave  minded  Mars,  (yet  master  of  disorder, 
Delighting  naught  but  battles,  blood  and  murder), 
His  furious  coursers  lasheth  night  and  day, 
That  he  may  swiftly  pass  his  course  away; 
But  in  the  road  of  his  eternal  race 
So  many  rubs  hinder  his  hasty  pace 
That  thrice,  the  while  the  lively  liquor-god 
With  dabbled  heels  hath  swelling  clusters  trod, 
And  thrice  hath  Ceres  shaven  her  amber  tress 
Ere  his  steel  wheels  have  done  their  business. 

Pure  goldy-locks  Sol,  state's  friend,  honor  giver, 
Light  bringer,  laureate,  leech  man,  all-reviver, 
Thou  in  three  hundred  three  score  days  and  five 
Dost  to  the  period  of  thy  race  arrive. 
For  with  thy  proper  course  thou  measur'st  th*  year 
And  measur'st  days  with  thy  constrained  career. 

Fair,  dainty  Venus 

Whom  wanton  dalliance,  dancing  and  delight, 
Smiles,  witty  wiles,  youth,  love,  and  beauty  bright, 
With  soft,  blind  Cupids  evermore  consort, — 
Of  lightsome  day  opens  and  shuts  the  port ; 
For  hardly  dare  her  silver  doors  go  far 
From  bright  Apollo's  glory-beaming  car. 

Not  much  unlike  moves  Mercury  the  witty; 
For  ship,  for  shop,  book,  bar  or  court,  or  city; 
Smooth  orator,  swift  penman,  sweet  musician, 
Rare  artisan,  deep  reaching  politician, 
Fortunate  merchant,  fine  prince'  humor  pleaser, 
To  end  his  course  takes  near  a  twelve-months'  leisure, 
For  all  the  while  his  nimble,  winged  heels 
Dare  little  budge  from  Phoebus'  golden  wheels. 

And  lastly  Luna,  thou  cold  Queen  of  Night,23 

23See  "Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona,"  IV,  2,  100;   "As  You  Like  It," 


80  BUILDING  THE  WORLD. 

Regent  of  humors,  parting  months  aright, 
Chaste  emperess,  to  one  Endymion  constant, — 
Constant  in  love  though  in  thy  mien  inconstant, 
(Unlike  our  loves,  whose  hearts  dissemble  soonest,) 
Twelve  times  a  year  through  all  the  zodiac  runnest. 

Now  if  these  lamps,  so  infinite  in  number, 
Should  still  stand  still  as  in  a  slothful  slumber, 
Then  should  some  places,  always  in  one  plight, 
Have  always  day  and  some  have  always  night. 
Then  should  the  summer's  fire  and  winter's  frost 
Rest  opposite  still  on  the  selfsame  coast. 
Then  naught  could  spring  and  nothing  prosper  would 
In  all  the  world  for  want  of  heat  and  cold. 

I'll  ne'er  believe  that  the  Arch-Architect 
With  all  these  fires  the  heavenly  arches  decked 
Only  for  show,  and  with  these  glistering  shields, 
T'  amaze  poor  shepherds  watching  in  the  fields. 
I'll  ne'er  believe  that  the  least  flower  that  pranks24 
Our  garden  borders  or  the  common  banks, 
And  the  least  stone  that  in  her  warming  lap 
Our  kind  nurse,  Earth,  doth  covetously  wrap, 
Hath  some  peculiar  virtue  of  its  own 
And  that  the  glorious  stars  of  heaven  have  none, 
But  shine  in  vain,  and  have  no  charge  precise 
But  to  be  walking  in  heaven's  galleries, 
And  through  that  palace  up  and  down  to  clamber, 
As  golden  gulls  about  a  prince's  chamber. 

Senseless  is  he  who  without  blush  denies 
What  to  sound  senses  most  apparent  lies ; 
A.nd  'gainst  experience  he  that  spets  fallacious 
Is  to  be  hissed  from  learned  disputations. 
And  such  is  he  that  doth  affirm  the  stars 
To  have  no  force  on  these  inferiors, 
Though  heaven's  effects  we  most  apparent  see 
In  number  more  than  heavenly  torches  be. 


Ill,  2,  2.    Sylvester  mentions  "the  pale  Queen  of  Night"  towards  the 
end  of  the  7th  Day. 
24"pranked  in  Reason's  garb." — Comus. 


THE  FOURTH  DAY.  81 

I  will  allege  the  seasons'  alteration 
Caused  by  the  sun  in  shifting  habitation ; 
I  will  not  urge  that  never  at  noondays 
His  envious  sister  intercepts  his  rays 
But  some  great  state  eclipseth,  and  from  hell 
Alecto  looses  all  these  furies  fell ; — 
Grim,  lean-faced  Famine,  foul,  infectious  Plague, 
Bloodthirsty  War  and  Treason — hateful  hag! 
Here  pouring  down  Woe's  universal  flood 
To  drown  the  world  in  seas  of  tears  and  blood. 

I'll  overpass  how  sea  doth  ebb  and  flow 
As  th'horned  queen  doth  either  shrink  or  grow; 
And  that  the  more  she  fills  her  forked  round 
The  more  the  marrow  doth  in  bones  abound, 
The  blood  in  veins,  the  sap  in  plants,  the  moisture 
And  luscious  meat  in  crayfish,  crab  and  oyster; 
That  oak  and  elm  and  fir  and  alder,  cut 
Before  the  crescent  have  her  cornets  shut, 
Are  never  lasting  for  the  builder's  turn 
In  ship  or  house,  but  rather  fit  to  burn ; 
And  also  that  the  sick,  while  she  is  filling, 
Feel  sharper  fits  through  all  their  members  thrilling 
So*  that  this  lamp  alone  approves  what  powers 
Heaven's  tapers  have,  even  on  these  souls  of  ours, 
Tempering  or  troubling,  as  they  be  inclined, 
Our  mind  and  humors,  humors  and  our  mind, 
Through  sympathy,  which,  while  this  flesh  we  carry, 
Our  souls  and  bodies  doth  together  marry. 

I'll  only  say  that  since  the  hot  aspect 
Of  th'heavenly  Dog-Star  kindles  with  effect 
A  thousand  unseen  fires,  and  dries  the  fields, 
Scorches  the  valleys,  parches  up  the  hills, 
And  oftentimes  unto  our  panting  hearts 
The  bitter  fits  of  burning  fevers  darts ; 
And  opposite,  the  Cup,  the  dropping  Pleiades, 
Bright  glistering  Orion  and  the  weeping  Hyades 
Never  almost  look  down  on  our  abode 
But  that  they  stretch  the  waters'  bounds  abroad ; 
With  cloudy  horror  of  their  wrathful  frown 


82  BUILDING  THE  WORLD. 

Threatening  again  the  guilty  world  to  drown ; 
And  to>  be  brief,  since  the  gilt  azure  front 
Of  firmest  sphere  hath  scarce  a  spark  upon't 
But  poureth  downward  from  apparent  change 
Toward  the  storing  of  the  world's  great  grange, 
We  may  conjecture  what  hid  power  is  given 
T'infuse  among  us  from  the  other  seven, — 
From  each  of  these  which  for  their  virtue  rare 
Th'  Almighty  placed  in  a  proper  sphere. 

Not  that  as  Stoic  I  intend  to  tie 
With  iron  chains  of  strong  necessity 
Th'  Eternal's  hands,  and  his  free  feet  enstock 
In  destiny's  hard,  adamantine  rock. 
I  hold  that  God,  as  the  first  cause,  hath  given 
Light,  course  and  force  to  all  the  lamps  of  heaven ; 
That  still  He  guides  them,  and  His  providence 
Disposeth  free  their  fatal  influence ; 
And  that  therefore  the  rather  we  below 
Should  study  all  their  course  and  force  to  know, 
To  th'end  that,  seeing  through  our  parents'  fall, 
T'how  many  tyrants  we  are  waxen  thrall, 
Ever  since  first  fond  woman's  blind  ambition 
Breaking,  made  Adam  break  heaven's  high  commission, 
We  might  unpuff  our  heart  and  bend  our  knee 
T'appease  with  sighs  God's  wrathful  majesty; 
Beseeching  Him  to  turn  away  the  storms 
Of  hail  and  heat,  plague,  death  and  dreadful  arms, 
Which  oft  the  angry  stars,  with  bad  aspects, 
Threat  to  be  falling  on  our  stubborn  necks ; 
To  give  us  curbs  to  bridle  th'  ill  proclivity 
We  are  inclined  to  by  a  hard  nativity ; 
To  pour  some  water,  of  His  grace,  to  quench 
Our  boiling  flesh's  fell  concupiscence; 
To  calm  our  many  passions,  spiritual  tremors, 
Sprung  from  corruption  of  our  vicious  humors. 

Latonian  twins,25  parent  of  years  and  months, 
Alas,  why  hide  you  so  your  shining  fronts? 

25The  sun  and  moon. 


THE  FOURTH  DAY.  83 

What,  will  you  show  the  splendor  of  your  ray 
But  through  a  veil  of  mourning  clouds,  I  pray? 
I  pray,  pull  off  your  mufflers  and  your  mourning, 
And  let  me  see  you  in  your  native  burning; 
And  my  dear  muse  by  her  eternal  flight 
Shall  spread  as  far  the  glory  of  your  light 
As  you  yourselves  run  in  alternate  ring 
Day  after  night,  night  after  day  to  bring. 

Thou  radiant  coachman,  running  endless  course, 
Fountain  of  heat,  of  light  the  lively  source, 
Life  of  the  world,  Lamp  of  this  universe, 
Heaven's  richest  gem!     O  teach  me  where  my  verse 
May  but  begin  thy  praise.     Alas,  I  fare 
Much  like  the  one  that  in  the  clouds  doth  stare 
To  count  the  quails  that  with  their  shadow  cover 
Th'  Italian  sea  when  soaring  hither  over, 
Fain  of  a  milder  and  more  fruitful  clime, 
They  come,  with  us  to  pass  the  summer  time. 
No  sooner  he  begins  one  shoal  to  sum, 
But  more  and  more  still  greater  shoals  do  come, 
Swarm  upon  swarm,  that  with  their  countless  number 
Break  off  his  purpose  and  his  sense  encumber. 

Day's  glorious  eye!     Even  as  a  mighty  king 
About  his  country,  stately,  progressing 
Is  compassed  round  with  dukes,  earls,  lords  and  kni,ghts, 
Orderly  marshaled  in  their  noble  rights, 
Esquires  and  gentlemen  in  courtly  kind, 
And  then  his  guard  before  him  and  behind; 
And  there  is  naught  in  all  this  royal  muster 
But  to  his  greatness  addeth  grace  and  luster, 
So,  while  about  the  world  thou  ridest  ay, — 
Which  only  lives  by  virtue  of  thy  ray, — 
Six  heavenly  princes,  mounted  evermore, 
Wait  on  the  coach,  three  behind,  three  before, 
Besides  the  hosts  of  th'upper  twinkling  bright, 
To  whom,  for  pay,  thou  givest  only  light. 

And  even  as  man — the  little  world  of  cares — 
Within  the  middle  of  his  body  bears 
His  heart,  the  spring  of  life,  which  with  proportion 


84  BUILDING  THE  WORLD. 

Supplieth  spirits  to  all  and  every  portion ; 
Even  so,  O  sun,  thy  golden  chariot  marches 
Amid  the  six  lamps  of  the  six  low  arches 
Which  seal  the  world,  that  equally  it  might 
Richly  impart  them  beauty,  force  and  light. 

Praising  thy  heat,  which  subtilely  doth  pierce 
The  solid  thickness  of  our  universe, 
Which  in  th'earth's  kidneys  mercury  doth  burn, 
And  pallid  sulphur  to  bright  metal  turn, 
I  do  digress  to  praise  that  light  of  thine, 
Which,  if  it  should  but  one  day  cease  to  shine, 
The  unpurged  air  to  water  would  resolve, 
And  water  would  the  mountain  tops  involve. 

Rising  from  the  Indian  wave, 

Thou  seem'st,  O  Titan,  like  a  bridegroom  brave, 
Who  from  his  chamber  early  issuing  out 
In  rich  array,  with  rarest  gems  about, 
With  pleasant  countenance  and  lovely  face, 
With  golden  tresses  and  attractive  grace, 
Cheers  at  his  coming  all  the  youthful  throng 
That  for  his  presence  earnestly  did  long, 
Blessing  the  day,  and  with  delightful  glee 
Singing  aloud  his  epithalamy. 

When  I  record  how  fitly  thou  dost  guide 
Through  the  fourth  heaven  thy  flaming  coursers'  pride, 
That  as  they  pass  their  fiery  breaths  may  temper 
Saturn's  and  Cynthia's  cold  and  moist  distemper, 
(For,  if  thou  galloped'st  in  the  nether  room 
Like  Phaeton,  thou  wouldst  the  world  consume, 
Or,  if  thy  throne  were  set  in    Saturn's  sky, 
For  want  of  heat  then  everything  would  die,) 
In  the  same  instant  I  am  pressed  to  sing 
How  thy  return  reviveth  everything; 
How  in  thy  presence  fear,  sloth,  sleep  and  night, 
Snows,  fogs  and  fancies  take  their  sudden  flight. 
Thou'rt,  to  be  brief,  an  ocean  wanting  bound, 
Where  (as  full  vessels  have  the  lesser  sound,) 
Plenty  of  matter  makes  the  speaker  mute, 
As  wanting  words  thy  worth  to*  prosecute. 


THE  FOURTH  DAY.  85 

Yet  glorious  monarch,  'mong  so  many  rare 
And  matchless  flowers  as  in  thy  garland  are, 
Some  one  or  two  shall  my  chaste,  sober  muse 
For  thine  immortal  sacred  sisters  choose. 
I'll  boldly  sing,  bright  sovereign,  thou  art  none 
Of  those  weak  princes  flattery  works  upon; — 
No  second  Edward,  nor  no  Richard  Second, 
Un-kinged  both,  as  rule-unworthy  reckoned,26 — 
Who,  to  enrich  their  minions  past  proportion, 
Pill  all  their  subjects  with  extreme  extortion; 
And  charmed  with  pleasures, — O  exceeding  pity! — 
Lie  always  wallowing  in  one  wanton  city ; 
And,  loving  only  that,  to  mean  lieutenants 
Farm  out  their  kingdom's  care,  as  unto  tenants. 
For,  once  a  day,  each  country  under  heav'n 
Thou  bidst  good-morrow,  and  thou  bidst  good-even. 
And  thy  far-seeing  eye,  as  censor,  views 
The  rites  and  fashions  fish  and  fowl  do  use, 
And  our  behaviors,  worthy,  every  one, 
Th'Abderian  laughter  and  Ephesian  moan. 

But  true  it  is,  to  th'end  a  fruitful  lew 
May  every  climate  in  its  time  renew, 
And  that  all  men  may  nearer,  in  all  realms, 
Feel  the  alternate  virtue  of  thy  beams ; 
Thy  sumptuous  chariot  with  the  light  returning 
From  the  same  portal  mounts  not  every  morning; 
But  to  make  known  eachwhere  thy  daily  drift, 
Dost  every  day  thy  coursers'  daily  shift ; 
That  while  the  spring,  pranked  in  her  greenest  pride, 
Reigns  here,  elsewhere  autumn  as  long  may  bide, 
And  while  fair  summer's  heat  our  fruits  doth  ripe, 
Cold  winter's  ice  may  other  countries  gripe. 

No  sooner  doth  thy  shining  chariot  roll 
From  highest  zenith  toward  northern  pole 
To  sport  thee  for  three  months  in  pleasant  inns 


2GThis  interpolated  couplet  may  have  been  destructive  of  the  pros- 
pects of  the  English  poet  at  the  court  of  King  James,  who  had  different 
views  in  relation  to  the  sacredness  of  kings. 


5  BUILDING  THE  WORLD. 

Of  Aries,  Taurus,  and  the  gentle  Twins, 

But  that  the  mealy  mountains,  late  unseen, 

Change  their  white  garments  into  lusty  green, 

The  gardens  prank  them  with  their  flowery  buds, 

The  meads  with  grass,  with  leaves  the  naked  woods, 

Sweet  Zephyrus  begins  to  buss  his  Flora, 

Swift  winged  singers  to  salute  Aurora, 

And  wanton  Cupid  through  this  universe 

With  pleasing  wounds  all  creatures'  hearts  to  pierce. 

When,  backward  bent,  Phlegon,  the  fiery  steed, 
With  Cancer,  Leo  and  the  Maid  doth  feed, 
Earth  cracks  with  heat  and  summer  crowns  its  Ceres 
With  gilded  ears  as  yellow  as  her  hair  is ; 
The  reaper,  panting  both  for  heat  and  pain, 
With  crooked  razor  shaves  the  tufted  plain  ;r 
And  the  good  husband  that  due  season  takes 
Within  a  month  his  year's  provision  makes. 

When  from  mid-heaven  thy  bright  flame  doth  fly 
Toward  the  cross  stars  in  th'antarctic  sky, 
To  be  three  months  uprising  and  down  lying 
With  Scorpio,  Libra  and  the  Archer  flying, 
Earth  by  degrees  her  lovely  beauty  'bates, 
Pomona  loads  her  lap  with  delicates, 
Her  apron  and  her  osier  basket  both 
With  dainty  fruits  for  her  dear  Autumn's  tooth, — 
Her  healthless  spouse,  who  barefoot  hops  about 
To  tread  the  juice  of  Bacchus'  clusters  out. 

And  last  of  all,  when  thy  proud  trampling  team 
For  three  months  more  toi  sojourn  still  doth  seem 
With  Capricorn,  Aquarius  and  the  Fishes, 
While  we  in  vain  revoke  thee  with  our  wishes, 
Instead  of  flowers,  chill,  shivering  Winter  dresses 
With  icicles  her  (self  bald)  borrowed  tresses, 
About  her  brows  a  periwig  of  snow, 
Her  white  frieze  mantle  fringed  with  ice  below, 
A  pair  of  lamb-lined  buskins  on  her  feet ; — 
So  doth  she  march,  Orithyia's  love  to  meet, 

27"On  the  dry,  smooth-shaven  green." — II  Penseroso. 


THE  FOURTH  DAY.  87 

Who,  with  his  bristled,  hoary,  bugle  beard, 
Coming  to  kiss  her,  makes  her  lips  afeard ; 
Whereat  he  sighs,  a  breath  so  cold  and  keen 
That  all  the  waters  crystallized  been, 
While  in  a  fury  with  his  boisterous  wings 
Against  the  Scythian,  snowy  rocks  he  flings ; 
All  lusks  in  sloth,  and  till  three  months  do  end, 
Bacchus  and  Vulcan  must  us  both  befriend.28 

O  second  honor  of  the  lamps  supernal, 
Sure  calendar  of  festivals,  eternal, 
Sea's  sovereign,  sleep-bringer,  pilgrims'  guide, 
Peaceloving  queen;  What  shall  I  say  beside? 
What  shall  I  say  of  thine  inconstant  brow 
Which  makes  my  brain  waver,  I  wot  not  how? 
But  if  by  th'eye  a  man's  intelligence 
May  guess  of  distant  things  so  far  from  hence, 
I  think  thy  body  round  as  any  ball, 
Whose  superfice,  nigh  equal  over  all, 
As  a  pure  glass,  now  up,  and  down  anon, 
Reflects  the  bright  beams  of  thy  spouse,  the  sun, 
For  as  a  husband's  noblesse  doth  illuster 
A  mean-born  wife,  SO'  doth  the  glorious  luster 
Of  radiant  Titan  with  his  beams  embright 
Thy  gloomy  front  that  selfly  hath  no>  light. 

Yet  'tis  not  always  after  one  self  sort, 
For,  for  thy  car  doth  swifter  thee  transport 
Than  doth  thy  brother's,  diversely  thou  shin'st 
As  more  or  less  thou  from  his  sight  declin'st. 
Therefore  each  month,  when  Hymen  blest,  above, 
In  both  your  bodies  kindles  ardent  love, 
And  that  the  stars'  king,  all  enamored  on  thee, 


28ln  justice  to  Du  Bartas  it  should  be  stated  that  the  original  of  all 
this  paragraph  may  be  literally  translated  as  follows: — "Then  loiter- 
ing in  the  houses  of  Capricorn,  Aquarius  and  Pisces,  Winter  clothes 
himself  with  ice  instead  of  flowers.  Water  is  suspended  in  the  air 
from  house-tops;  and  the  spouse  of  Orithyia  with  a  rock-breaking 
breath  blows  over  Scythia.  All  lusks  in  sloth;  and  Bacchus  and 
Vulcan  moderate  the  cold  of  the  late  months  of  the  year."  "Lusks," 
meaning  "idles,"  seems  not  to  be  obsolete  in  England  now;  but  the 
word  is  seldom,  if  ever,  heard  on  this  side  of  the  Atlantic. 


BUILDING  THE  WORLD. 

Full  of  desire,  shines  down  direct  upon  thee, 

Thy  nether  half  globe  toward  th'  earthly  ball, 

After  its  nature,  is  observed  by  all. 

But  him  aside  thou  hast  no  sooner  got 

But  on  thy  side  a  silver  file  we  note, — 

A  half-bent  bow  which  swells  the  less  thy  coach 

Doth  the  bright  chariot  of  thy  spouse  approach, 

And  fills  his  circle.     When  the  imperial  star 

Beholds  thee  just  in  one  diameter, 

Then  by  degrees  thy  full  face  falls  away 

And  by  degrees  westward  thy  horns  display, 

Till,  fall'n  again  betwixt  the  lover's  arms, 

Thou  wink'st29  again,  vanquished  with  pleasure's  charms. 

Thus  dost  thou  wax  and  wane,  thee  oft  renewing, 
Delighting  change,  and  mortal  things,  ensuing 
As  subject  to  thee  thy  self's  transmutation, 
Feel  th'unseen  force  of  secret  alteration. 
Not  but  that  Phoebus  always  with  his  shine 
Clears  half  at  least  of  thine  aspect  divine ; 
But  't  seems  not  so;  because  we  see  but  here 
Of  thy  round  globe  the  lower  hemisphere. 
Though  waxing,  usward,  heavenward  thou  dost  wane, 
And  waning  usward,  heavenward  grow'st  again. 

Yet  it  befalls,  even  when  thy  face  is  full, 
When  at  the  highest  thy  pale  coursers  pull, 
When  no  thick  mask  of  clouds  can  hide  away 
From  living  eyes  thy  broad,  round,  glistering  ray, 
Thy  light  is  darkened  and  thine  eyes  are  sealed, 
Covered  with  shadow  of  a  rusty  shield. 
For  thy  full  face,  in  its  oblique  design 
Confronting  Phoebus  in  th'ecliptic  line, 
And  th'earth  between,  thou  losest  for  a  space 
Thy  splendor,  borrowed  of  thy  brother's  grace. 

But  to  revenge  thee  on  the  earth  for  this 
Forestalling  thee  of  thy  kind  lover's  kiss, 
Sometimes  thy  thick  orb  thou  dost  interblend 


29Does  it  need  be  said  that  winking,  with  Sylvester,  meant  merely 
a  closing  of  the  eyes? 


THE  FOURTH  DAY.  89 

'Twixt  Sol  and  us,  toward  the  latter  end 

And  then,  because  his  splendor  cannot  pass 

Or  pierce  the  thickness  of  thy  gloomy  mass, 

The  sun,  as  subject  to  death's  pangs,  us  sees  not, 

But  seems  all  lightless,  though  indeed  he  is  not.      .    .    . 

So  from  the  south  to  north  to  make  apparent 
That  God  revoked  his  sergeant  Death's  sad  warrant 
'Gainst  Hezekiah,  and  that  he  would  give 
The  godly  king  fifteen  years  more  to  live ; 
Transgressing  heaven's  eternal  ordinance, 
Thrice  in  one  day  thou  through  the  path  didst  prance, 
And,  as  desirous  of  another  nap, 
In  thy  vermilion,  sweet  Aurora's  lap, 
Thy  coach  turned  back,  and  thy  swift,  sweating  horse, 
Full  ten  degrees  lengthened  their  wonted  course. 
Dials  went  false,  the  forests,  gloomy  black, 
Wondered  to  see  their  mighty  shades  go  back. 

So  when  the  incensed  heaven  did  fight  so  fell 
Under  the  standard  of  dear  Israel 
Against  the  host  of  odious  Amorites, 
Among  a  million  of  swift  flashing  lights 
Raining  down  bullets  from  a  stormy  cloud 
As  thick  as  hail,  upon  their  armies  proud ; 
That  such  as  'scaped  from  Heaven's  wrathful  thunder 
Victorious  swords  might,  after,  hew  in  sunder; 
Conjured  by  Joshua,  the  brave  steeds  stood  still, 
In  full  career  stopping  thy  whirling  wheel ; 
And  one  whole  day  in  one  degree  they  staid 
In  midst  of  heaven  for  sacred  army's  aid, 
Lest  th'infidels,  in  their  disordered  flight, 
Should  save  themselves  under  the  wings  of  night. 

Those  that  then  lived  under  the  other  pole, 
Seeing  the  lamp  which  doth  enlight  the  whole 
To  hide  so  long  his  lovely  face  away, 
Thought  never  more  to  have  re-seen  the  day, — 
The  wealthy  Indians  and  the  men  of  Spain 
Never  to  see  sun  rise  or  set  again. 
In  the  same  place  shadows  stood,  still  as  stone, 
And  in  twelve  hours  the  dials  showed  but  one. 


THE  FIFTH  DAY 


l  He  began 

This  day  to  quicken  in  the  ocean. 

In  standing  pools  and  in  the  straggling  rivers 

Whose  folding  channel  fertile  champaigns  severs, 

So  many  fishes  of  so  many  features 

That  in  the  waters  one  may  see  all  creatures ; 

And  all  that  in  this  All  is  to  be  found, 

As  if  the  world  within  the  deeps  were  drowned. 

Seas  have,  as  well  as  skies,  sun,  moon  and  stars, 
As  well  as  air,  swallows  and  rooks  and  stares, 
As  well  as  earth,  vines,  roses,  nettles,  melons, 
Pinks,  gilliflowers,  mushrooms  and  many  millions 
Of  other  plants  more  rare  and  strange  than  these, 
As  very  fishes  living  in  the  seas ; 
And  also  rams,  calves,  horses,  hares  and  hogs, 
Wolves,  lions,  urchins,  elephants  and  dogs, — 
Yea,  men  and  maids ;  and,  which  I  more  admire, 
The  mitered  bishop  and  the  cowled  friar, 
Whereof  examples  but  a  few  years  since 
Were  shown  the  Norway's  and  Polonian  prince. 

You  divine  wits  of  elder  days,  from  whom 
The  deep  invention  of  rare  works  hath  come, — 
Took  you  not  pattern  of  your  chiefest  tools 
Out  of  the  lap  of  Thetis, — lakes  and  pools 


lAbout  thirty  lines  of  prefatory  matter  are  omitted,  for  the  reason 
that  they  take  too  many  words  to  demonstrate  what  needs  no  proof — 
namely,  that  the  earth  without  animal  life  upon  it  would  have  been 
a.  fiat  failure. 


92  BUILDING  THE  WORLD. 

Which  partly  in  the  waves,  part  on  the  edges 
Of  craggy  rocks,  among  the  ragged  sedges, 
Bring  forth  abundance  of  pins,  pincers,  spokes, 
Pikes,  piercers,  needles,  mallets,  pipes  and  yokes, 
Oars,  sails  and  swords,  saws,  wedges,  razors,  rammers, 
Plumbs,  cornets,  knives,  wheels,  vises,  horns  and 

hammers? 

And,  as  if  Neptune  and  fair  Panope, 
Palaemon,  Triton  and  Leucothoe 
Kept  public  rolls,  there  is  the  Calamary, 
Who'  ready  pen-knife,  pen  and  ink  doth  carry. 

Some  have  their  heads  groveling  betwixt  their  feet, 
As  th'inky  cuttles  and  the  many-feet ; 
Some  in  their  breast,  as  crabs ;  some  headless  are, 
Footless  and  finless,  as  the  baneful  hare 
And  heatful  oyster,  in  a  heap  confused 
Their  parts  unparted,  in  themselves  diffused. 

The  Tyrian  merchant,  or  the  Portuguese 
Can  hardly  build  one  ship  of  many  trees; 
But  of  one  tortoise,  when  he  list  to  float 
Th' Arabian  fisherman  can  make  a  boat, 
And  one  such  shell  him  in  the  stead  doth  stand 
Of  hulk  at  sea,  and  of  a  house  on  land. 

Shall  I  omit  the  monstrous  whirlabout 
Which  in  the  sea  another  sea  doth  spout,2 
Wherewith  huge  vessels,  if  they  happen  nigh, 
Are  overwhelmed  and  sunken  suddenly? 

Shall  I  omit  the  tunnies  that  durst  meet 
Th'Eoan  monarch's3  never  daunted  fleet, 
And  beard  more  bravely  his  victorious  powers 
Than  the  defenders  of  the  Tyrian  towers, 
Or  Porus,  conquered  on  the  Indian  coast, 
Or  great  Darius  that  three  battles  lost? 


SSchiller  improved  on  this  figure  in  his  "Diver."  Du  Bartas's  orig- 
inal language  is  still  less  forcible  than  Sylvester's: — "L'enorme  Sene- 
dete,  Qui,  crachant  dans  Tethis,  une  autre  Tethis  jette." 

SAlexander  the  Great,  who  turned  the  Orient  (monde  Eoe,  morning 
land,)  into  a  single  province  of  his  empire,  according  to  the  original 
lines  of  the  French  poet. 


THE  FIFTH  DAY.  93 

When  on  the  surges  I  perceive  from  far 
Th'ork,  whirlpool  whale,  or  huffing  physeter,4 
Methinks  I  see  the  wandering  isle  again, 
Ortygian  Delos,  floating  on  the  main, 
And  when  in  combat  these  fell  monsters  cross, 
Meseems  some  tempest  all  the  sea  doth  toss. 

Our  fearless  sailors  in  far  voyages,5 
More  led  by  gain's  hope  than  their  compasses, 
On  th'Indian  shore  have  sometimes  noted  some 
Whose  bodies  covered  two  broad  acres  room; 
And  in  the  South  Seas  they  have  also  seen 
Some  like  high-topped  and  huge-armed  treen, 
And  other  some  whose  monstrous  backs  did  bear 
Two  mighty  wheels  with  whirling  spokes,  that  were 
Much  like  the  winged  and  wide-spreading  sails 
Of  any  windmill  turned  with  merry  gales.         .     .     . 
As  citizens  in  some  intestine  brawl 
Long  cooped  up  within  their  castle  wall, 
So  soon  as  peace  is  made  and  siege  removed, 
Forsake  awhile  their  town  so  strong  approved, 
And  tired  with  toil,  by  leashes  and  by  pairs, 
Crowned  with  garlands,  go  to  take  the  airs ; 
So  dainty  salmon,  chevins  thunder-scarred, 
Feast-famous  sturgeon,  lampreys  speckle-starred, 
In  the  spring  season  the  rough  seas  forsake 
And  in  the  rivers  thousand  pleasures  take; 
And  yet  the  plenty  of  delicious  foods, 
Their  pleasant  lodging  in  the  crystal  floods,6 
The  fragrant  scent  of  flowery  banks  about, 
Cannot  their  country's  tender  love  wipe  out 
Of  their  remembrance,  but  they  needs  will  home 
In  th'ireful  ocean  to  go  seek  their  tomb. 
Like  English  gallants  that  in  youth  do  go 


4A  great  whale  that  was  said  to  have  the  habit  of  swelling  itself 
up  to  much  huger  dimensions,  like  the  frog  in  the  fable. 

BEight  lines  interpolated. 

6The  phrases,  "Crystal  fountains,"  and  "Glassy  floods,"  both  occur 
in  Milton's  paraphrase  of  Psalm  114,  which  is  only  four  lines  longer 
than  an  orthodox  sonnet. 


94  BUILDING  THE  WORLD. 

To  visit  Rhine,  Sein,  Ister,  Arne  and  Po, 

Where,  though  their  sense  be  dandled  days  and  nights 

In  sweetest  choice  of  changeable  delights, 

They  never  can  forget  their  mother  soil, 

But  hourly  home  their  hearts  and  eyes  recoil, 

Long  languishing  with  an  extreme  desire 

To  see  the  smoke  of  their  dear  native  fire.      .     .     . 

The  subtle  smell-strong  many-foot  that  fain 
A  dainty  feast  of  oyster  flesh  would  gain, 
Swims  softly  down,  and  to  him  slily  slips, 
Wedging  with  stones  his  yet  wide  yawning  lips, 
Lest  else,  before  that  he  hath  had  his  prey, 
The  oyster,  closing,  clip  his  limbs  away; 
And  when  he  thought  t'have  'joyed  his  victories, 
Himself  become  unto  his  prize  a  prize. 
The  cramp-fish,  knowing  that  she  harboreth 
A  plagueful  humor,  a  fell,  baneful  breath, 
A  secret  poppy  and  a  senseless  winter, 
Benumbing  all  that  dare  too  near  her  venture, 
Pours  forth  her  poison  and  her  chilling  ice 
On  the  next  fishes, — charmed  so  in  a  trice 
That  she  not  only  stays  them  in  the  deep 
But  stuns  their  sense  and  lulls  them  fast  asleep ; 
And  then  at  will  she  with  their  flesh  is  fed, 
Whose  frozen  limbs  still  living  seem  but  dead. 
'Tis  this  torpedo  that  when  she  hath  took 
Into  her  throat  the  sharp,  deceitful  hook, 
Doth  not  as  other  fish  that  wrench  and  wriggle 
When   they   be   pricked,    and   plunge    and   strive   and 

struggle, 

And  by  their  stir  thinking  to  'scape  the  angle, 
Faster  and  faster  on  the  hook  do  tangle ; 
But,  wily,  clasping  close  the  fishing  line, 
Suddenly  spews  into  the  silver  brine 
Her  secret-spreading,  sudden-speeding  bane. 
Which  up  the  line  and  all  along  the  cane 
Creeps  to  the  hand  of  th'angler.  who  withal 
Benumbed  and  senseless,  suddenly  lets  fall 
His  hurtful  pole  and  his  more  hateful  prize; 


THE  FIFTH  DAY.  96 

Become  like  one  that  as  in  bed  he  lies 

Seems  in  his  sleep  to  see  some  ghastly  ghost ; 

In  a  cold  sweat,  shaking  and  swelt  almost, 

He  calls  his  wife  for  aid,  his  friends,  his  folks,7 

But  his  stuffed  stomach  his  weak  clamor  chokes. 

Then  would  he  strike  at  that  he  doth  behold, 

But  sleep  and  fear  his  feeble  hands  do  hold. 

Then  would  he  run  away,  but  as  he  strives, 

He  feels  his  foot  fettered  with  heavy  gyves.       .     .     . 

The  thriving  Amia,  near  Abydos  breeding, 
And  subtle  sea-fox,  in  steeds'  love  exceeding, 
Without  much  risk  to  their  dear  life  and  lining, 
Can  from  the  worm-clasp  compass  their  untwining. 
For,  sucking  in  more  of  the  twisted  hair, 
Above  the  hook  they  it  in  sunder  shear 
So  that  their  foe  who  for  a  fish  did  look 
Lifts  up  a  bare  line,  robbed  of  bait  and  hook. 
But  timorous  berbel  will  not  taste  a  bit 
Till  with  their  tails  they  have  unhooked  it 
And  all  the  baits  the  fisher  can  devise 
Cannot  beguile  their  wary  jealousies. 

Even  so  almost  the  many-spotted  cuttle 
Well  near  ensnared  yet  escapeth  subtle ; 
For  when  she  sees  herself  within  the  net, 
And  no  way  left  but  one  from  thence  to  get, 
She  suddenly  a  certain  ink  doth  spew 
Which  dyes  the  waters  of  a  sable  hue, 
That,  dazzling  so  the  fisher's  greedy  light, 
She  through  the  clouds  of  the  black  water's  night 
Might  'scape  with  honor  the  black  streams  of  Styx, 
Whereof  already,  almost  lost,  she  licks. 

And  as  a  prisoner,  of  some  great  transgression 
Convict  by  witness  and  his  own  confession, 
Kept  in  dark  durance  full  of  noisome  breath, 
Expecting  nothing  but  the  day  of  death, 


7"His  folks,"  meaning  the  people  of  his  household  related  to  him 
by  consanguinity  and  marriage,  is  a  common  expression  .n  the  inland 
counties  of  New  England  and  New  York. 


96  BUILDING  THE  WORLD. 

Spies  every  corner  and  pries  round  about 

To  find  some  weak  place  where  he  may  get  out, 

The  delicate,  cud-chewing,  golden-eye, 

Kept  in  a  w:eir,  the  widest  place  doth  spy, 

And  thrusting  in  his  tail,  makes  th'osiers  gape 

With  his  oft  flapping,  and  doth  so  escape. 

But  if  his  fellow  find  him  thus  bested, 

He  lends  his  tail  to  the  imprisoned, 

That  thereby  holding  fast  with  gentle  jaw, 

Him  from  his  durance  he  may  friendly  draw. 

Or  if  before  that  he  were  captivate 

He  see  him  hooked  on  the  biting  bait, 

Hasting  to  help,  he  leapeth  at  the  line, 

And  with  his  teeth  snaps  off  the  hairy  twine.       .     . 

As  a  great  carrack,  cumbered  and  oppressed 
With  her  own  burden,  wends  not  east  or  west, 
Starboard  or  larboard  with  so  quick  careers 
As  a  small  frigate  or  swift  pinnace  steers ; 
And  as  a  large  and  mighty  limbed  steed, 
Either  of  Friesland  or  the  German  breed, 
Can  never  manage  half  so  readily 
As  Spanish  jennet  or  light  Barbary ; 
So  the  huge  whale  hath  not  so  nimble  motion 
As  smaller  fishes  that  frequent  the  ocean ; 
But  sometimes  rudely  'gainst  a  rock  he  brushes. 
Or  in  some  roaring  strait  he  blindly  rushes, 
And  scarce  could  live  a  twelvemonth  to  the  end 
But  for  the  little  musculus,  his  friend, 
A  little  fish,  that,  swimming  still  before, 
Directs  him  safe  from  rock,  from  shelf,  and  shore; 
Much  like  a  child  that,  loving,  leads  about 
His  aged  father,  when,  his  eyes  be  out ; 
Still  wafting  him  through  every  way  so>  right 
That,  reft  of  eyes,  he  seems  not  reft  of  sight. 

But,  Clio,  wherefore  art  thou  tedious 
In  numbering  Neptune's  busy  burghers  thus? 
If  in  His  works  thou  wilt  admire  the  worth 
Of  the  seas'  Sovereign,  bring  but  only  forth 
One  little  fish,  whose  admirable  story 


THE  FIFTH  DAY.  97 

Sufficeth  sole  to  show  His  might  and  glory. 

Let  all  the  winds  in  one  wind  gather  them, 

And,  seconded  with  Neptune's  strongest  stream, 

Let  all  at  once  blow  all  their  stiffest  gales 

Astern  a  galley  under  all  her  sails, 

Let  her  be  hoi  pen  with  a  hundred  oars, 

Each  lively  handled  by  five  lusty  rowers ; 

The  remora,  fixing  her  feeble  horn 

Into  the  tempest-beaten  vessel's  stern, 

Stays  her  stone  still,  while  all  her  stout  consorts 

Sail  thence  at  pleasure  to  their  wished  ports. 

They  loose  them  all  their  sheets,  but  to  no  boot ; 

For  the  charmed  vessel  budgeth  not  a  foot, 

No  more  than  if  three  fathom  under  ground 

A  score  of  anchors  held  her  fastly  bound ; 

No  more  than  doth  an  oak  that  in  a  wood 

Hath  thousand  tempests  thousand  times  withstood, 

Spreading  as  many  massive  roots  below 

As  mighty  arms  above  the  ground  do  grow. 

0  Stop-Ship,  say,  say  how  thou  canst  oppose 
Thyself  alone  against  so  many  foes? 

O  tell  us  where  thou  dost  thine  anchors  hide. 
Whence  thou  resistest  sails,  oars,  wind  and  tide! 
How,  on  the  sudden,  canst  thou  curb  so  short 
A  ship  whom  all  the  elements  transport? 
Whence  is  thine  engine,  and  thy  secret  force 
That  frustrates  engines  and  all  force  doth  force? 

1  had  in  harbor  heaved  mine  anchor  o'er, 
And  even  already  set  one  foot  ashore, 

When  lo,  the  dolphin,  beating  'gainst  the  bank, 

'Gan  my  oblivion  moodily  misthank. 

Peace,  princely  swimmer,  sacred  fish,  content  thee ; 

For,  for  thy  praise,  th'end  of  this  song  I  meant  thee. 

Brave  admiral  of  the  broad,  briny  regions, 

Triumphant  tamer  of  the  scaly  legions, 

Who,  living,  ever  liv'st, — for  never  sleep, 

Death's  lively  image,  in  thine  eyes  doth  creep, — 

Lover  of  ships,  of  men,  of  melody, 

Thou  up  and  down  through  the  moist  world  dost  ply, 


BUILDING  THE  WORLD. 

Swift  as  a  shaft.     Whose  salt  thou  lovest  so 
That,  lacking  that,  thy  life  thou  dost  forego. 
Thou,  gentle  fish,  wert  th'happy  boat  of  yore 
Which  safely  brought  th'Amiclean  harp  ashore. 

Arion,  matchless  for  his  music's  skill, 
Among  the  Latins  having  gained  his  fill 
Of  gold  and  glory,  and  exceeding  fain 
To  re-salute  his  learned  Greece  again, 
Unwares  embarks  him  in  a  pirate's  ship, 
Who,  loth  to  let  so  good  a  bounty  slip, 
Soon  weighs  his  anchors,  packs  on  all  his  sail, 
And  winds  conspiring  with  a  prosperous  gale, 
His  winged  frigate  made  so  speedy  flight 
Tarentum  towers  were  quickly  out  of  sight, 
And  all — save  skies  and  seas — on  every  side, 
Where  the  compass  only  is  the  pilot's  guide. 

The  sailors  then,  whom  many  times  we  find 
Falser  than  seas  and  fiercer  than  the  wind, 
Fall  straight  to  strip  him,  rifling  at  their  pleasure 
In  every  corner  to-  find  out  his  treasure 
And  having  found  it,  all  with  one  accord 
Hoist  th'owner  up  to  heave  him  overboard ; 
Who,  weeping,  said,  "O  Nereus'  noble  issue, 
Not  to  restore  my  little  gold  I  wish  you, 
For  my  chief  treasure  in  my  music  lies, 
And  all  Apollo's  sacred  pupils  prize 
The  holy  virgins  of  Parnassus  so 
That  underfoot  all  worldly  wealth  they  throw. 
No,  brave  triumphers  over  wind  and  wave, 
Who  in  both  worlds  your  habitation  have, 
Who  both  heaven's  hooks  in  your  adventures  view, 
'Tis  not  for  that  with  broken  sighs  I  sue. 
I  but  beseech  you,  offer  no  impieties 
Unto  a  person  dear  unto  the  deities. 
So  may  Messinian  sirens  for  your  sake 
Be  ever  mute  when  you  your  voyage  make, 
And  Triton's  trumpet  th'angry  surges  'suage 
When  justly  Neptune  shall  against  you  rage. 
But  if,  alas,  I  cannot  this  obtain, 


THE  FIFTH  DAY.  99 

As  my  faint  eyes  read  in  your  frowns  too  plain, 

Suffer  at  least  to  my  sad  dying  voice 

My  doleful  fingers  to  consort  their  noise, 

That  so  the  sea-nymphs,  rapt  in  admiration 

Of  my  divine,  sweet,  sacred  lamentation, 

Dragging  my  corpse  to  shore,  with  weeping  showers 

May  dew  the  same,  and  it  entomb  with  flowers." 

"Then  play,"  said  they,  "and  give  us  both  together, 
Treasure  and  pleasure,  by  thy  coming  hither." 

His  sweetest  strokes  then  sad  Arion  lent 
Th'enchanting  sinews  of  his  instrument, 
Wherewith  he  charmed  the  raging  ocean  so 
That  crook-toothed  lampreys  and  the  congers  row 
Friendly  together,  and  their  native  hate 
The  pike  and  mullet  for  the  time  forgat, 
And  lobsters  floated  fearless  all  the  while 
Among  the  polyps,  prone  to  theft  and  guile. 

But  among  all  the  fishes  that  did  throng 
To  dance  the  measure  of  his  mournful  song, 
There  was  a  dolphin  did  the  best  accord 
His  nimble  motions  to  the  trembling  chord, 
Who,  gently  sliding  near  the  pinnace'  side, 
Seemed  to  invite  him  on  his  back  to  ride. 
By  this  time  twice  the  sailors  had  essayed 
To  heave  him  o'er;  yet  twice  himself  he  stayed, 
And  now  the  third  time  strove  they  him  to  cast ; 
Yet  by  the  shrouds  the  third  time  held  he  fast ; 
But  lastly,  seeing  they  were  past  remorse 
And  he  too  feeble  to  withstand  their  force. 
The  trembling  dolphin's  shoulders  he  bestrid. 
Who  on  the  ocean's  azure  surges  slid, 
So  that  far  off,  his  charge  so  cheered  him, 
One  would  have  thought  him  rather  fly  than  swim, 
Yet  fears  he  every  shelf  and  every  surge, — 
Not  for  himself,  but  for  his  tender  charge, — 
And  sloping  swiftly  cverthwart  the  seas, 
Not  for  his  own,  but  for  his  rider's  ease, 
Makes  double  haste  to  find  some  happy  strand 
Where  his  sweet  Phoebus  he  may  safely  land. 


100  BUILDING  THE  WORLD. 

Meanwhile  Arion  with  his  music  rare 

Pays  his  dear  pilot  his  delightful  fare, 

And  heaving  eyes  to  heaven, — the  haven  of  pity,— 

To  his  sweet  harp  he  tunes  this  sacred  ditty : 

"O  Thou  Almighty,  who  mankind  to  wrack 
Of  thousand  seas  one  sea  whilom  didst  make, 
And  yet  didst  save  from  th'universal  doom 
One  sacred  household,  that  in  time  to  come, 
From  age  to  age,  should  sing  Thy  glorious  praise, — 
Look  down,  O  Lord,  from  Thy  supernal  rays ! 
Look,  look,  alas,  upon  a  wretched  man 
Half  tombed  already  in  the  ocean ! 

0  be  my  steersman  and  vouchsafe  to  guide 
The  sternless  boat  and  bitless  horse  I  ride, 
So  that,  escaping  winds'  and  waters'  wrath, 

1  once  again  may  tread  my  native  path ; 

And  henceforth,  here  with  solemn  vows  I  sacre 

Unto  thy  glory,  O  my  God  and  Maker, 

For  this  great  favor's  high  memorial, 

My  heart  and  art,  my  voice,  hand,  harp  and  all." 

Herewith  the  seas  their  roaring  rage  restrain, 
The  cloudy  welkin  waxes  clear  again, 
And  all  the  winds  do  suddenly  convert 
Their  mouths  to  ears  to  hear  his  wondrous  art. 
The  dolphin  then,  descrying  land  at  last, 
Storms  with  himself  for  having  made  such  haste, 
And  wished  Laconia  thousand  leagues  from  thence, 
The  while  t'enjoy  the  music's  excellence. 
But  to  his  own  delight  preferring  far 
The  unhoped  safety  of  the  minstrel  rare, 
Sets  him  ashore  and,  (which  most  strange  may  seem,) 
Where  life  he  first  saw,  life  still  smiles  to*  him. 

While  busy  poring  downward  in  the  deep 
I  sing  of  fishes  that,  there,  quarter  keep. 
See  how  the  fowls  are  from  my  fancy  fled, 
And  their  high  praises  quite  out  of  my  head ! 
Their  flight  out-flies  me,  and  my  muse  almost 
The  better  half  of  this  bright  day  hath  lost. 
But  cheer  ye,  birds ;  your  shadows,  as  ye  pass, 


THE  FIFTH   DAY.  101 

Seeming  to  flutter  on  the  water's  face, 
Make  me  remember,  by  their  nimble  turns 
Both  what  my  duty  and  your  due  concerns. 

But  first,  I  pray,  for  meed  of  all  my  toil, 
In  bringing  you  into  this  happy  isle, 
Vouchsafe  to  waken  with  your  various  notes 
The  senseless  senses  of  those  drowsy  sots 
Whose  eyelids,  laden  with  a  weight  of  lead, 
Shall  fall  asleep  while  these  my  rimes  are  read. 
But  if  they  could  not  close  their  wakeful  eyes 
Among  the  water's  silent  colonies, 
How  can  they  sleep  among  the  birds,  whose  sound 
Through  heaven  and  earth  and  ocean  doth  resound? 

The  heavenly  phoenix  first  began  to  frame 
The  earthly  phoenix,  and  adorned  the  same 
With  such  a  plume  that  Phoebus,  circuiting 
From  Fez  to  Cairo,  sees  no  fairer  thing. 
Such  form,  such  feathers,  and  such  fate  he  gave  her 
That  fruitful  Nature  breedeth  nothing  braver; 
Two  sparkling  eyes;  upon  her  crown  a  crest 
Of  starry  sprigs  more  splendent  than  the  rest ; 
A  golden  down  about  her  dainty  neck ; 
Her  breast  deep  purple,  and  a  scarlet  back; 
Her  wings  and  train  of  feathers,  mixed  fine, 
Of  orient  azure  and  incarnadine.8 

He  did  appoint  her  fate  to  be  her  fere, 
And  Death's  cold  kisses  to  restore  her  here 
To  life  again,  which  never  shall  expire 
Until  as  she,  the  world  consume  in  fire. 
For,  having  passed  under  divers  climes 
A  thousand  winters  and  a  thousand  primes, 
Worn  out  with  years,  wishing  her  endless  end, 
To  shining  flames  she  doth  her  life  commend ; 
Dies  to  revive,  and  goes  into  her  grave 


81  do  not  know  whether  this  is  the  first  instance  of  the  use  of 
"incarnadine"  in  English,  or  not.  In  Shakespeare's  Macbeth  it  ap- 
pears as  a  verb,  but  Macbeth  was  first  printed  long  after  the  original 
publication  of  the  Divine  Weeks. 


102  BUILDING  THE  WORLD. 

To  rise  again,  more  beautiful  and  brave. 

Perched,  therefore,  upon  a  branch  of  palm, 
With  incense,  cassia,  spikenard,  myrrh  and  balm, 
By  break  of  day  she  builds  in  narrow  room 
Her  urn,  her  nest,  her  cradle  and  her  tomb ; 
Where,  while  she  sits  all  gladly-sad,  expecting 
Some  flame,  against  her  fragrant  heap  reflecting, 
To  burn  her  sacred  bones  to  seedful  cinders, 
Wherein  her  age,  but  not  her  life,  she  renders, 
The  Phrygian  Skinker,9  with  his  lavish  ewer, 
Drowns  not  the  fields  with  shower  after  shower; 
The  shining  Coachman  with  his  icy  snow 
Dares  not  the  forests  of  Phoenicia  strow ; 
Auster  presumes  not  Libyan  shores  to  pass 
With  his  moist  wings;  and  graybeard  Boreas 
As  the  most  boisterous  and  rebellious  slave, 
Is  prisoned  close  in  th'hyperborean  cave ; 
For  Nature  now,  propitious  to  her  end, 
T'her  living  death  a  helping  hand  doth  lend ; 
And  stopping  all  those  mouths,  doth  mildly  stead 
Her  funerals,  her  fruitful  birth,  and  bed. 
And  Sol  himself,  glancing  his  golden  eyes 
On  th'odoriferous  couch  wherein  she  lies, 
Kindles  the  spice,  and  by  degrees  consumes 
Th'immortal  phoenix,  both  her  flesh  and  plumes. 

But  instantly  out  of  her  ashes  springs 
A  worm,  an  egg  then,  then  a  bird  with  wings, 
Just  like  the  first,  rather  the  same  indeed, 
Which,  re-engendered  of  its  selfly  seed, 
By  nobly  dying  a  new  date  begins, 
And  where  she  loseth,  there  her  life  she  wins, 
Endless  by'r  end,  eternal  by  her  tomb, 
While,  by  a  prosperous  death,  she  doth  become, 
Among  the  cinders  of  her  sacred  fire, 
Her  own  self's  heir,  nurse,  nursling,  dam  and  sire; 
Teaching  us  all  in  Adam  here  to  die, 
That  we  in  Christ  may  live  eternally. 

9The  rain-bringing  zodiacal  sign,  Aquarius. 


THE  FIFTH  DAY.  103 

The  phoenix,  cutting  th'unfreqtiented  air, 
Forthwith  is  followed  by  a  thousand  pair 
Of  wings  in  th'instant  by  th' Almighty  wrought, 
With  divers  size,  color  and  motion  fraught. 

The  scent-strong  swallow  sweepeth  to  and  fro 
As  swift  as  shafts  fly  from  a  Turkish  bow 
When,  use  and  art  and  strength  confed'rated, 
The  skillful  archer  draws  them  to  a  head. 
Flying  she  sings,  and  singing  seeketh10  where 
She,  more  with  cunning  than  with  cost,  may  rear 
Her  round  front  palace  in  a  place  secure 
Whose  plat  may  serve  in  rarest  architecture. 
Her  little  beak  she  loads  with  brittle  straws, 
Her  wings  with  water,  and  with  earth  her  claws, 
Whereof  she  mortar  makes,  and  therewithal 
Aptly  she  builds  her  semicircle  wall. 

The  pretty  lark,  climbing  the  welkin  clear, 
Chants  with  a  cheer,  "Here  peer  I  near  my  dear!" 
Then  stooping  thence,  seeming  her  fall  to  rue, 
"Adieu."  she  saith,  ''adieu,  dear  dear,  adieu." 
The  spink,  the  linnet  and  the  goldfinch  fill 
All  the  fresh  air  with  their  sweet  warbles'  thrill. 

But  these  are  nothing  to  the  nightingale, 
Breathing  so  sweetly  from  a  breast  so  small ' 
So  many  tunes  whose  harmony  excels 
Our  voice,  our  viols,  and  all  music  else. 
Good  Lord,  how  oft  in  a  green,  oaken  grove, 
In  the  cool  shadow  have  I  stood  and  strove 
To  marry  mine  immortal  lays  to  theirs,11 
Rapt  with  the  joy  of  their  delicious  airs ! 


10"And  singing,  startle  the  dull  night." — L'Allegro.  "And  singing 
still  dost  soar,  and  soaring  ever  singest." — Shelley's  "To  a  Skylark." 
"They  ceasing  sung;  they  singing,  ceased  still." — Eden  (post)  note  16. 

ii"Soft  Lydian  airs,  Married  to  immortal  verse." — L'Allegro.  The 
marriage  of  verse  and  music  is  a  favorite  rite  with  Sylvester,  who  tells 
that  in  Eden  the  birds  were  "marrying  their  sweet  tunes  to  the  angels' 
lays,"  while  in  a  later  poem,  (The  Law,)  the  Israelites  are  described 
as  "marrying  all  their  voices  to  timbrels,"  etc.,  in  "The  Woodman's 
Bear,"  "to  the  music  choice  Of  those  nimble  joints  she  marries  The 
echo  of  her  angel  voice"  and  in  the  "Paradox,"  the  poet  pictures  him- 
self as  "to  sweet  harmony  Marrying  my  simple  voice." 


104  BUILDING  THE  WORLD. 

And  yet,  methinks,  in  a  thick  thorn  I  hear 
A  nightingale  that  warbles  sweetly  clear. 
One  while  she  bears  the  bass,  anon  the  tenor, 
Anon  the  treble  and  the  counter-tenor; 
Then  all  at  once,  as  it  were,  challenging 
The  rarest  voices  with  herself  to  sing. 
Thence  thirty  paces,  mid  the  leafy  sprays, 
Another  nightingale  repeats  her  lays 
Just  note  for  note,  and  adds  some  strain  at  last 
That  she  hath  conned  all  the  winter  past. 
The  first  replies  and  descants  thereupon 
With  divine  warbles  of  division, 
Redoubling  quavers,  and  so,  turn  by  turn, 
Alternately,  they  sing  away  the  morn ; 
So  that  the  conquest  in  this  curious  strife 
Doth  often  cost  the  one  her  voice  and  life. 

Then  the  glad  victor  all  the  rest  admire, 
And  after  count  her  mistress  of  the  choir. 
At  break  of  day,  in  a  delicious  song 
She  sets  the  gamut  to  a  hundred  young ; 
And  whenas  fit  for  higher  tunes  she  sees  them, 
Then  learnedly  she  harder  lessons  gi'es  them, 
Which,  strain  by  strain,  they  studiously  recite, 
And  strive  to  follow  all  her  rules  aright. 

The  ravening  kite,  whose  train  doth  well  supply 
A  rudder's  place ;  the  falcon,  mounting  high, 
The  merlin,  lanner,  and  the  gentle  tercel, 
Th'osprey  and  saker,  with  a  nimble  farcel 
Follow  the  phoenix  from  the  clouds  almost, 
At  once  discovering  many  an  unknown  coast. 

In  the  swift  ranks  of  these  fell  rovers  flies 
The  Indian  griffin  with  the  glistering  eyes, 
Beak  eagle-like,  back  sable,  sanguine  breast, 
White,  swan-like  wings,  fierce  talons,  always  pressed 
For  bloody  battles;  for  with  these  he  tears 
Boars,  lions,  horses,  tigers,  bulls  and  bears. 
With  these  our  grandam's12  fruitful  paunch  he  pulls, 

i2"Our  grandam"  is  as  heretofore  the  earth.     Eve  assumes  the  posi- 
tion later.     See  Sir  T.  Browne's  "Pseudodoxia,"  III,  11. 


THE  FIFTH  DAY.  105 

Whence  many  an  ingot  of  pure  gold  he  culls 
To  floor  his  proud  nest,  builded  strong  and  deep 
On  a  high  rock,  better  his  thefts  to  keep. 
With  these  he  guards  against  an  army  bold 
The  hollow  mines  where  first  he  findeth  gold, 
And  wroth  that  men  upon  his  right  should  rove. 
Or  thievish  hands  usurp  his  treasure  trove, 

O  ever  may'st  thou  fight  so,  valiant  fowl, 
For  this  dire  bane  of  our  seduced  soul ; 
And  with  thee  may  the  Dardan  ants13  so  ward 
That  gold  committed  to  their  careful  guard 
That  henceforth  hopeless  man's  frail  mind  may  rest  her 
From  seeking  that  which  doth  its  master  master. 
O  odious  poison,  for  the  which  we  dive 
To  Pluto's  dark  den ;  for  the  which  we  rive 
Our  mother  Earth,  and  not  contented  with 
Th'abundant  gifts  she  outward  offereth, 
With  sacrilegious  tools  we  rudely  rend  her, 
And  ransack  deeply  in  her  bosom  tender, 
While  underground  we  live  in  hourly  fear 
That  the  frail  mines  shall  overwhelm  us  there. 
For  which  beyond  rich  Taprobane  we  roll 
Through  thousand  seas  to  seek  another  pole, 
And  maugre  winds'  and  waters'  enmity, 
We  every  day  new,  unknown  worlds  descry ; 
For  which,  alas,  the  brother  fells  his  brother, 
The  sire  his  son,  the  son  his  sire  and  mother, 
The  man  his  wife,  the  wife  her  wedded  fere, 
The  friend  his  friend.     O  what  sell  we  not  here 
Sithence  to  satiate  our  gold-thirsty  gall, 
We  sell  ourselves,  our  very  souls  and  all? 

Near  these  the  crow  his  greedy  wings  displays, 
The  long-lived  raven,  th'infamous  bird  that  lays 
His  bastard  eggs  within  the  nest  of  other 
To  have  them  hatched  by  an  unkindly  mother; 


iSFabled  insects  of  the  East  Indies,  the  tales  of  whose  exploits 
were  probably  founded  upon  observations  of  the  white  ants  (or  ter- 
mites) of  the  tropics. 


106  BUILDING  THE  WORLD. 

The  screech-owl,  used  in  falling  towers  to  lodge,14 
Th'unlucky  night-raven,  and  thou  lazy  madge, 
That,  fearing  light,  still  seekest  where  to  hide; 
The  hate  and  scorn  of  all  the  birds  beside. 

But,  gentle  muse,  tell  me  what  fowls  are  those 
That  even  now  from  flaggy  fens  arose. 
'Tis  th'hungry  heron,  the  greedy  cormorant, 
The  coot  and  curlew  which  the  moors  do  haunt, 
The  nimble  teal,  the  mallard  strong  in  flight, 
The  didapper,  the  plover  and  the  snite, 
The  silver  swan  that,  dying,  singeth  best, 
And  the  kingfisher  which  so  builds  her  nest 
By  the  seaside  in  midst  of  winter  season, 
That  man,  in  whom  shines  the  bright  lamp  of  reason, 
Cannot  devise,  with  all  the  wit  he  has, 
The  little  building  how  to  raise  or  raze. 

So  long  as  there  his  quiet  couch  he  keeps 
Sicilian  sea  exceeding  calmly  sleeps, 
For  ^Eolus,  fearing  to  drown  the  brood, 
Keeps  home  awhile,  and  troubles  not  the  flood. 
The  pirate,  dwelling  always  in  his  bark, 
In's  calendar  his  building  days  doth  mark, 
And  the  rich  merchant  resolutely  ventures, 
So  soon  as  th'halcyon  in  his  broodbed  enters. 
Meanwhile  the  langa,  skimming  as  it  were 
The  ocean's  surface,  seeketh  everywhere 
The  stupid  whale,  and  slipping  in  by  art 
In  his  vast  mouth,  she  feeds  upon  his  heart. 

New  Spain15  cucujo  in  his  forehead  brings 
Two  burning  lamps,  two  underneath  his  wings, 
Whose  shining  rays  serve  oft  in  darkest  night 
Th'embroiderer's  hand  in  royal  works  to  light, 
Th'ingenious  turner,  with  a  wakeful  eye 


l4"From  yonder  ivy-mantled  tewer  The  moping  owl  does  to  the 
moon  complain." — Gray. 

iBAmerica.  The  statement  appears  to  be  an  exaggeration  of  what 
was  actually  seen  of  fireflies.  The  cucujus  itself  is  a  Brazilian  beetle 
of  a  character,  according  to  entomologists,  not  strikingly  different 
from  that  of  allied  European  species. 


THE  FIFTH  DAY.  107 

To  polish  fair  his  purest  ivory, 

The  usurer  to  count  his  glistering  treasures, 

The  learned  scribe  to  limn  his  golden  measures. 

But  note  we  now,  towards  the  rich  Moluccas, 
Those  passing  strange  and  wondrous  birds,  mamucas,16 — 
Wondrous  indeed,  if  sea  or  earth  or  sky 
Saw  ever  wonder  go,  or  swim,  or  fly. 
None  knows  their  nest ;  none  knows  the  dam  that  breeds 

them; 

Foodless  they  live,  for  only  the  air  feeds  them; 
Wingless  they  fly,  and  yet  their  flight  extends, 
Till  with  their  flight  their  unknown  life's  date  ends. 

The  stork,  still  eyeing  her  dear  Thessaly, 
The  pelican •comforteth  cheerfully; — 
Praiseworthy  payer,  which  pure  examples  yield 
Of  faithful  father  and  officious  child. 
One  'quites  in  time  her  parent's  love  exceeding, 
From  whom  she  had  her  birth  and  tender  breeding; 
Not  only  brooding  under  her  warm  breast 
Their  age-chilled  bodies,  bedrid  in  the  nest, 
Nor  only  bearing  them  upon  her  back 
Through  th'empty  air,  when  their  own  wings  they  lack, 
But  also  sparing — this  let  children  note, — 
Her  daintiest  food  from  her  own  hungry  throat, 
To  feed  at  home  her  feeble  parents,  held 
From  foraging  with  heavy  gyves  of  eld. 

The  other,  kindly,  for  her  tender  brood 
Tears  her  own  bowels,  trilleth  out  her  blood 
To  heal  her  young,  and  in  a  wondrous  sort 
Unto  her  children  doth  her  life  transport ; 
For,  finding  them  by  some  fell  serpent  slain, 
She  rends  her  breast  and  doth  upon  them  rain 
Her  vital  humor;  whence,  recovering  heat 
They  by  her  death  another  life  do  get 

Thus  dost  thou  print,  O  Parent  of  this  all, 
In  every  breast  of  brutest  animal 
A  kind  instinct  which  makes  them  dread  no  less 

l6Birds  of  Paradise. 


108  BUILDING  THE  WORLD. 

Their  children's  danger  than  their  own  decease; 

That  so  each  kind  may  last  immortally, 

Though  th'individuals  pass  successively.17 

So  fights  a  lion,  not  for  glory  then, 

But  for  his  dear  whelps,  taken  from  his  den 

By  hunters  fell.     He  fiercely  roareth  out ; 

He  wounds;  he  kills.     Amid  the  thickest  rout 

He  rushes  in,  dreadless  of  spears  and  darts, 

Swords,  shafts  and  staves,  though  hurt  in  thousand  parts. 

And  brave,  resolved,  till  his  last  breath  lack 

Never  gives  over,  nor  an  inch  gives  back. 

Wrath  salves  his  wounds;  and  lastly,  to<  conclude, 

When,  overlaid  with  night  and  multitude, 

He  needs  must  die,  dying  he  more  bemoans 

Than  his  own  death  his  captive  little  ones. 

So  for  their  young  our  mastiff  curs  will  fight, 

Eagerly  bark,  bristle  their  backs  and  bite. 

So  in  the  deep  the  dogfish  for  her  fry 

Lucina's  throes  a  thousand  times  will  try ; 

For  seeing  that  the  subtle  fisher  follows  them, 

Again  alive  into  herself  she  swallows  them, 

And  when  the  peril's  past  she  brings  them  hence 

As  from  the  cabins  of  a  safe  defence ; 

And,  thousand  lives  to  their  dear  parent  owing, 

As  sound  as  ever  in  the  seas  are  rowing. 

So  doth  a  hen  make  of  her  wings  a  tar,ge 

To  shield  her  chickens  that  she  hath  in  charge ; 

And  so  the  sparrow,  with  her  angry  bill, 

Defends  her  brood  from  such  as  would  them  ill. 

I  hear  the  crane,  if  I  mistake  not,  cry, 
Who,  forming  in  the  clouds  a  forked  Y, 
By  the  brave  orders  practised  under  her, 
Instructeth  soldiers  in  the  art  of  war. 
For  when  her  troops  of  wandering  cranes  forsake 
Frost-firmed  Strymon,  and  in  autumn  take 
Truce  with  the  northern  dwarfs,  to  seek  adventure 
In  southern  climates  for  a  milder  winter, 

iTldentical  with  a  sentiment  expressed  in  Locksley  Hall. 


THE  FIFTH  DAY.  109 

Afront  each  band  a  forward  captain  flies, 
Whose  pointed  bill  cuts  passage  through  the  skies; 
Two  skillful  sergeants  keep  the  ranks  aright, 
And  hasten  with  their  voice  their  tardy  flight ; 
And  when  the  honey  of  care-charming  sleep 
Sweetly  begins  through  all  their  veins  to  creep, 
One  keeps  the  watch,  and  ever  careful-most, 
Walks  many  a    round  about  the  sleeping  host, 
Still  holding  in  his  claw  a  stony  clod 
Whose  fall  may  wake  him  if  he  hap  to  nod. 
Another  doth  as  much, — a  third, — a  fourth, — 
Until  by  turns  the  night  be  turned  forth. 

There  the  fair  peacock,  beautifully  brave, 
Proud,  portly,  strutting,  stalking,  stately,  grave, 
Whirling  his  starry  train,  in  pomp  displays 
His  glorious  eyes  to  Phoebus'  golden  rays. 
Qose  by  his  side  stands  the  courageous  cock, 
Crest-people's  king,  the  peasant's  trusty  clock, 
True  morning  watch,  Aurora's  trumpeter, 
The  lion's  terror,  true  astronomer, 
Who  daily  riseth  when  the  sun  doth  rise, 
And  when  Sol  setteth,  then  to  roost  he  hies. 

There,  I  perceive,  amid  the  flowery  plain 
The  mighty  ostrich,  striving  oft  in  vain 
To  mount  among  the  flying  multitude, 
(Although  with  feathers,  not  with  flight  endowed ;) 
Whose  greedy  stomach  steely  gads  digests, 
Whose  crisped  train  adorns  triumphant  crests. 

Thou  happy  witness  of  my  happy  watches, 
My  book,  blush  not  nor  think  it  thee  dismatches 
To  bear  about  upon  the  paper  tables 
Flies,  butterflies,  gnats,  bees,  and  all  the  rabbles 
Of  other  insects  endless  to  rehearse, 
Limned  with  the  pencil  of  my  varied  verse ; 
Since  these  are  also  His  wise  workmanships 
Whose  fame  no  obscure  work  did  e'er  eclipse, 
And  since  in  these  He  shows  us  every  hour 
More  wondrous  proofs  of  His  almighty  power 
Than  in  huge  whales  or  hideous  elephants, 


110  BUILDING  THE  WORLD. 

I        Or  whatsoever  other  monster  haunts 

In  stormless  seas,  raising-  a  storm  about. 
While  in  the  sea  another  sea  they  spout.18 

For  if  old  times  admire  Callicrates 
For  ivory  emmets,  and  Mermecides 
For  framing  of  a  winged  ship  so  small 
That  with  her  wings  a  bee  could  hide  it  all, — 
Though  th'artful  fruits  of  all  their  curious  pain 
Fit  for  no  use  were,  but  inventions  vain, — 
Admire  we  then  th'all-wise  Omnipotence 
Which  doth  within  so  narrow  space  dispense 
So  stiff  a  sting,  so  stout  and  valiant  heart, 
So  loud  a  voice,  so  prudent  wit  and  art. 

For  where's  the  state  beneath  the  firmament 
That  doth  excel  the  bees  for  government? 
No,  no ;  bright  Phoebus,  whose  eternal  race 
Once  every  day  about  the  earth  doth  pass, 
Sees  here  no  city  that  in  rites  and  laws, 
For  equity,  near  to  their  justice  draws. 
Not  that  which,  flying  from  the  furious  Him,19 
In  th'Adrian  sea  another  world  begun, 
Their  well  ruled  state  my  soul  so  much  admires 
That,  durst  I  loose  the  rein  of  my  desires, 
I  gladly  could  digress  from  my  design 
To  sing-  awhile  their  sacred  discipline. 
But  if,  of  all  whose  skillful  pencils  dare 
To  counterfeit  th'Almighty's  models  rare, 
None  durst  yet  finish  that  fair  piece,  wherein 
Learned  Apelles  drew  love's  wanton  queen, — 
Shall  I  presume  Hymettus'  mount  to  climb 
And  sing  the  bees'  praise  in  my  humble  rime, 
Which  Latin  bards'  inimitable  prince 
Hath  warbled  twice  about  the  banks  of  Mince?20 


isSee    note    on    Regiomontanus,    in  "Religio  Medici:" 
I91n   Campbell's   "Hohenlinden"   we   read   "furious   Frank   and   fiery 
Hun,"  but  the  line  is  evidently  inspired  by  a  recollection  of  that  of 
the  above  text,  notwithstanding  the  transposition,   which  is  of  ques- 
tionable desirability. 
20The  Mincio,  upon  which  river  Mantua  is  situated. 


THE  FIFTH  DAY.  Ill 

Yet  I  may  not  that  little  worm  pass  by, 
Of  fly  turned  worm,  and  of  a  worm  turned  fly ; 
Two  births,  two  deaths,  here  Nature  hath  assigned  her. 
Leaving  a  posthume — dead-live — seed  behind  her, 
Which  soon  transforms  the  fresh  and  tender  leaves 
On  Thisbe's  pale  tree  to  those  slender  sleaves, 
On  oval  clews,  of  soft,  smooth,  silken  flakes 
Which  more  for  us  than  for  herself  she  makes. 

O  precious  fleece,  which  only  did  adorn 
The  sacred  forms  of  princes  heretoforn ! 
But  our  proud  age,  with  prodigal  abuse 
Hath  so  profaned  th'old  honorable  use, 
That  shifters  now  who  scarce  have  bread  to  eat 
Disdain  plain  silk,  unless  it  be  beset 
With  one  of  those  dear  metals,  whose  desire 
Burns  greedy  souls  with  an  unending  fire. 

Thon  last,  not  least ;  brave  eagle,  no  contempt 
Made  me  so  long  thy  story  hence  exempt, 
For  well  I  know  thou  boldest  worthily 
That  place  among  the  airy  flocks  that  fly 
As  doth  the  dragon  or  the  cockatrice 
Among  the  baneful,  creeping  companies, 
The  noble  lion  among  savage  beasts, 
And  gentle  dolphin  'mong  the  diving  guests. 
I  know  thy  course ;  I  know  thy  constant  sight 
Can  fix'dly  gzze  'gainst  heaven's  greatest  light; 
But  as  the  phoenix  on  my  front  doth  glister 
Thou  shalt  the  finials  of  my  frame  illuster. 

On  Thracian  shore  of  the  same  stormy  stream 
Which  did  inherit  both  the  bones  and  name 
Of  Phryxus'  sister,21 — and  not  far  from  whence 
The  love-blind  Hero's  hapless  diligence 
Instead  of  love's  lamp,  lighted  death's  cold  brand 
To  waft  Leancler's  naked  limbs  to  land, — 
There  dwelt  a  maid  as  noble  and  as  rich 
And  fair  as  Hero,  but  more  chaste  by  much ; 
For  her  steel  breast  still  blunted  all  the  darts 


-iHelle,  after  whom  the  Hellespont  was  named. 


112  BUILDING  THE  WORLD. 

Of  Paphos'  archer,  and  eschewed  his  arts. 

One  day  this  damsel,  through  a  forest  thick 
Hunting,  among  her  friends  that  sport  did  seek, 
Unto  a  steep  rock's  thorny,  thrummed  top 
Where  one  would  almost  fear  to  clamber  up, 
Two  tender  eaglets  in  a  nest  espies, 
Which  sat,  trying  against  the  sun  their  eyes, 
Whose  callow  backs  and  bodies  round  about 
With  soft,  short  quills  began  to  bristle  out ; 
Who,  yawning  wide,  with  empty  gorge  did  gape 
For  wonted  fees  out  of  their  parents'  rape. 
Of  the  two  fowls  the  fairest  up  she  takes 
Into  her  bosom,  and  great  haste  she  makes 
Down  from  the  rock,  and  shivering  yet  for  fear, 
Trips  home  as  fast  as  her  light  feet  can  bear; 
Even  as  a  wolf  that,  hunting  for  a  prey, 
And  having  stolen  at  last  a  lamb  away, 
Flies  with  down  hanging  head,  and  leereth  back, 
Whether  the  mastiff  doth  pursue  his  track. 

In  time  this  eaglet  was  so  thoroughly  manned 
That  from  the  quarry  to  her  mistress'  hand 
At  the  first  call  'twould  come,  and  fawn  upon  her, 
And  bill,  and  bow  in  sign  of  love  and  honor. 
On  th'other  side  the  maiden  makes  as  much 
Of  her  dear  bird,  stroking  with  gentle  touch 
Her  wings  and  train,  and  with  a  wanton  voice 
It  wantonly  doth  cherish  and  rejoice; 
And,  pretty  foundling,  she  doth  prize  it  higher 
Than  her  own  beauties,  which  all  else  admire. 

But,  as  fell  fates  mingle  our  single  joys 
With  bitter  gall  of  infinite  annoys, 
An  extreme  fever  vexed  the  virgin's  bones, 
By  one  disease  to  cause  two>  deaths  at  once, 
Consumed  her  flesh  and  wanly  did  displace 
The  rose-mixed  lilies  in  her  lovely  face. 
But  oft  the  eagle,  striving  with  her  fit, 
Would  fly  abroad  to  seek  some  dainty  bit 
For  her  dear  mistress,  and  with  nimble  wing 
Some  rail  or  quail  or  partridge  would  she  bring, 


THE  FIFTH  DAY.  113 

Paying  with  food  the  food  received  so  oft 
From  those  fair,  ivory,  virgin  fingers  soft, 
During  her  nonage,  ere  she  durst  essay 
To  cleave  the  sky,  and  for  herself  to  prey. 

The  fever  now  with  spiteful  fits  had  spent 
The  blood  and  marrow  of  this  innocent 
And  Life  resigned  to  cruel  Death  her  right, 
Who  three  days  after  doth  the  eagle  cite.      .     .     . 
O'er  the  dear  corpse  sometimes  her  wings  she  hovers, 
Sometimes  the  dead  breast  with  her  breast  she  covers ; 
Sometimes  her  neck  doth  the  pale  neck  embrace ; 
Sometimes  she  kisses  the  cold  lips  and  face; 
And  with  sad  murmurs  she  lamenteth  so 
That  her  strange  moan  augments  the  parents'  woe.    .  .  . 

But  lo,  the  while,  about  the  lightsome  door 
Of  th'hapless  house  a  mournful  troop  that  bore 
Black  on  their  backs  and  tapers  in  their  fists, 
Tears  on  their  cheeks  and  sorrow  in  their  breasts, 
Who,  taking  up  the  sacred  load  at  last, 
Whose  happy  soul  already  heaven  embraced, 
With  shrill  sad  cries  march  toward  the  fatal  pile 
With  solemn  pace ;  the  silly  bird  the  while 

Following  far  off 

No  sooner  had  the  ceremonial  flame 

Embraced  the  body  of  her  tender  dame, 

But  suddenly,  distilling  all  with  blood, 

Down  soused22  the  eagle  on  the  blazing  wood ; 

Nor  boots  the  flamen  with  his  sacred  wand 

A  hundred  times  to  beat  her  from  her  stand ; 

For  to  the  midst  still  of  the  pile  she  plies, 

And  singing  sweet  her  lady's  obsequies 

Then  burns  herself,  and  blendeth  happily 

Her  bones  with  hers  she  loved  so  tenderly.      .     .     . 


22"Descends  in  open  view 
The  bird  of  Jove,  and  sousing  on  his  prey, 
With  crooked  talons  bears  the  boy  away." — Dryden. 


THE  SIXTH  DAY 


Of  all  the  beasts  which  Thou  this  day  didst  build  • 
To  haunt  the  hills,  the  forest  and  the  field, 
I  see,  as  viceroy  of  the  brutish  band, 
The  elephant  the  vanguard  doth  command; 
Worthy  that  office,  whether  we  regard 
His  towered  back  where  many  soldiers  ward, 
Or  else  his  prudence,  wherewithal  he  seems 
To  obscure  the  wits  of  human  kind  sometimes. 
As  studious  scholar  he  self-rumineth 
His  lessons  given ;  his  king  he  honoreth ; 
Adores  the  moon ;  moved  with  a  strange  desire 
He  feels  the  sweet  flames  of  th'Idalian1  fire, 
And,  pierced  with  glance  of  a  kind,  cruel  eye, 
For  human  beauty  seems  to  sigh  and  die. 
Yea,  if  the  Grecians  do  not  misrecite, 
With's  crooked  trumpet  he  doth  sometimes  write. 

But  his  huge  strength  nor  subtle  wit  cannot 
Defend  him  from  the  sly  rhinocerot 
Who  never,  with  blind  fury  led,  doth  venture 
Upon  his  foe  but,  ere  the  lists  he  enter, 
Against  a  rock  he  whetteth  round  about 
The  dangerous  pike  upon  his  armed  snout; 
Then  buckling  close,  doth  not  at  random  hack 
On  the  hard  cuirass  on  his  enemy's  back, 
But  under's  belly  cunningly  finds  skin 


lldalium  in  Cyprus  was  sacred  to  Venus  Aphrodite  who  was  there- 
fore sometimes  called  "Idalia." 


116  BUILDING  THE  WORLD. 

Where — and  but  there — his  sharpened  blade  will  in. 

The  scaly  dragon,  being  else  too  low 
For  th'elephant,  up  a  thick  tree  doth  go, 
So  closely  ambushed  almost  every  day 
To  watch  the  carrycastle  in  his  way ; 
Who,  once  approaching,  straight  his  stand  he  leaves 
And  round  about  him  he  so  closely  cleaves 
With  writhing  body  that  his  enemy, 
The  stinging  knots  unable  to  untie, 
Hastes  to  some  tree  or  to  some  rock,  whereon 
To  rush  and  rub  off  his  detested  zone, 
The  fell  embraces  of  whose  dismal  clasp 
Have  almost  brought  him  to  his  latest  gasp. 

Then  suddenly  the  dragon  slips  his  hold 
From  th'elephant,  and  sliding  down,  doth  fold 
About  his  forelegs,  fettered  in  such  order 
That,  stocked  there,  he  now  can  stir  no  furder. 
While  th'elephant,  but  to  no  purpose  strives 
With  winding  trunk  t'undo  his -wounding  gyves, 
His  furious  foe  thrusts  in  his  nose ;  his  nose, 
Then  head  and  all,  and  therewithal  doth  close 
His  breathing-passage ;  but  his  victory 
He  joys  not  long ;  for  his  huge  enemy, 
Down  falling  dead,  doth  with  his  weighty  fall 
Crush  him  to  death  that  caused  his  death  withal. 
Near  th'elephant  comes  th'horned  hirable,2 
Stream-troubling  camel  and  strong-necked  bull, 
The  lazy-paced,  yet  laborious  ass, 
The  quick,  proud  courser  which  the  rest  doth  pass 
For  apt  address.  Mars  and  his  master  loving, 
After  his  hand  with  ready  lightness  moving. 
In  a  fresh  troop  the  fearful  hare  I  note, 
Th'oblivious  coney  and  the  browsing  goat, 
The  slothful  swine,  the  golden-fleeced  sheep, 
The  light-foot  hart,  which  every  year  doth  weep, 
As  a  sad  recluse,  for  his  branched  head 
That  in  the  springtime  he  before  hath  shed. 

2The  giraffe.     Adopted  from  Du  Bartas's  original  text. 


THE  SIXTH  DAY.  117 

O  what  a  sport  to  see  a  herd  of  them 
Take  soil  in  summer  in  some  spacious  stream ! 
One  swims  before,  another  on  his  chine 
Nigh  half  upright,  doth  with  his  breast  incline; 
On  that  another,  and  so  all  do  ride 
Each  after  other;  and  still  when  their  guide 
Grows  to  be  weary  and  can  lead  no  more, 
He  that  was  hindmost  comes  and  swims  before. 
Like  as  in  cities  where  one  magistrate 
Bears  not  the  burden  of  the  common  state, 
But  having  passed  his  year,  he  doth  discharge 
On  others'  shoulders  his  sweet,  bitter  charge. 

But  of  all  beasts  none  steadeth  man  so  much 
As  doth  the  dog ;  his  diligence  is  such. 
A  faithful  guard,  a  watchful  sentinel, 
A  painful  purveyor  that  with  perfect  smell 
Provides  great  princes  many  a  dainty  mess, — 
A  friend  till  death,  a  helper  in  distress, 
Dread  of  the  wolf,  fear  of  the  fearful  thief, 
Fierce  combatant  and  of  all  hunters  chief. 

There  skips  the  squirrel,  seeming  weather-wise3 
Without  beholding  heaven's  twinkling  eyes; 
For,  knowing  well  which  way  the  wind  will  change, 
He  shifts  the  portal  of  his  little  grange ; 
The  wanton  weasel's  there,  the  wily  fox, 
The  witty  monkey  that  man's  action  mocks, 
The  sweat-sweet  civet,  dearly  fetched  from  far 
For  courtiers  nice,  past  Indian  Tarnassar.       .     .     . 
There  the  rough  hedge-hog,  who  to  shun  his  thrall 
Shrinks  up  himself  as  round  as  any  ball, 
And  fast'ning  his  slow  feet  under  his  chin, 
On's  thistly  bristles  rolls  him  quickly  in. 
But  th'eye  of  Heaven  beholdeth  naught  more  strange 
Than  the  chameleon  who,  with  various  change, 
Receives  the  color  that  each  object  gives, 
And,  foodless  else,  of  th'air  alonely  lives.      .     .     . 


SThis   word   is  still  in  good  colloquial  use  in  the  northern   United 
States. 


118  BUILDING  THE  WORLD. 

O  who  is  he  that  would  not  be  astound 
To  be  as  I  am,  here  environed  round 
With  cruel'st  creatures,  which  for  mastery 
Have  vowed  against  us  endless  enmity? 
Phoebus  would  faint,  Alcides'  self  would  dread, 
Although  the  first  dread  Python  conquered, 
And  th'other  vanquished  th'Erymanthian  boar, 
The  Nemean  lion  and  a  many  more. 
What  strength  of  arm  or  artful  stratagem 
From  Nile's  fell  rover  could  deliver  them, 
Who  runs  and  rows,  warring  by  land  and  water 
'Gainst  men  and  fishes,  subject  to  his  slaughter? 
Or  from  the  furious  dragon  which  alone 
Set  on  a  Roman  army,  whereupon 
Stout  Regulus  as  many  engines  spent 
As  to  the  ground  would  Carthage  walls  have  rent? 

What  shot-free  corslet,  or  what  counsel  crafty 
'Gainst  th'angry  aspic  could  assure  them  safety, 
Who,  faithful  husband,  over  hill  and  plain 
Pursues  the  man  that  his  dear  fere  hath  slain, 
Whom  he  can  find  among  the  thickest  throng 
And  in  an  instant  Venge  him  of  his  wrong? 
What  shield  of  Ajax  could  avoid  their  death 
By  th'basilisk  whose  pestilential  breath 
Doth  pierce  firm  marble,  and  whose  baneful  eye 
Wounds  with  a  glance  so  that  the  soundest  die? 

Lord,  if  so  be  Thou  for  mankind  didst  rear 
This,  rich,  round  mansion,  glorious  everywhere, 
Alas,  why  didst  Thou  on  this  day  create 
These  harmful  beasts  which  but  exasperate 
Our  thorny  life?     O  wert  Thou  pleased  to  form 
Th'enameled  scorpion  and  the  viper-worm 
The  horned  cerastes,  th' Alexandrian  skink,4 


4The  "Index  to  the  Hardest  Words",  appended  to  the  Divine  Weeks 
in  all  the  old  editions,  says  that  Cerastes  is  "a  serpent  of  sundry 
colors,  with  homes  like  a  Ramme,"  and  the  Skink  is  "a  land  crocodile." 
What  the  drynas  or  the  dipsas  may  be  is  not  stated.  It  may  have 
been  a  recollection  of  this  catalogue  that  inspired  Milton's  "Perverse, 
all  monstrous,  all  prodigious  things,"  etc.  (Par.  Lost  II,  625.)  In 


THE  SIXTH  DAY.  119 

Th'adder  and  drynas,  full  of  odious  stink, 
The  eft,  snake  and  dipsas,  causing  deadly  thirst, 
Why  hast  Thou  armed  them  with  a  rage  so  curst? 
Pardon,  good  Lord,  pardon  me!  'twas  our  pride, 
Not  Thou,  that  troubled  first  our  happy  tide, 
And  in  the  childhood  of  the  world  did  bring 
Th'amphisboena  her  baneful  double  sting. 
Before  that  Adam  did  revolt  from  Thee, 
And,  curious,  tasted  of  the  sacred  tree, 
He  lived  king  of  Eden,  and  his  brow 
Was  never  blanched  with  pallid  fear  as  now ; 
The  fiercest  beasts  would  at  his  word  or  beck, 
Bow  to  his  yoke  their  self-obedient  neck 
As  now  the  ready  horse  is  at  command 
To  the  good  rider's  spur,  or  word,  or  wand, 
And  doth  not  wildly  his  own  will  perform, 
But  his  that  rules  him  with  a  steady  arm. 
Yea,  as  forgetful  of  so  foul  offense, 
Thou  leftst  him  yet  sufficient  wisdom,  whence 
He  might  subdue  and  to  his  service  stoop 
The  stubborn'st  herds  of  all  the  savage  troop. 
Of  all  the  creatures  through  the  welkin  gliding, 
Walking  on  earth  or  through  the  waters  sliding, 
Thou'st  armed  some  with  poison,  some  with  paws, 
Some  with  sharp  antlers,  some  with  gripping  claws, 
Some  with  keen  tushes,5  some  with  crooked  beaks, 
Some  with  thick  cuirass,  some  with  scaly  necks ; 
But  mad'st  man  naked ;  and  for  weapons  fit 
Thou  gav'st  him  nothing  but  a  pregnant  wit 
Which  rusts  and  dulls,  except  it  subject  find 
Worthy  its  worth,  whereon  itself  to  grind, 
And,  as  it  were,6  with  envious  armies  great 


the  second  part  of  this  work — Adam;  The  Furies — occurs  the  following 
line: — "A  confused  host  of  strange  chimeras  vain,"  which  somewhat 
resembles  the  concluding  line  of  the  foregoing  quotation. 

SMuch   more   commonly   heard   than   "tusks"   in   the  rural   districts 
of  the  northern  states. 

6The  phrase,  "as  it  were",  was  occasionally  used  long  before  this 
writing. 


120  BUILDING  THE  WORLD. 

Be  round  about  besieged  and  beset. 

For  what  boots  Milo's  brawny  shoulders  broad 
And  sinewy  arms,  if  but  a  common  load 
He  always  bears?     What  bays  or  olive  boughs, 
Parsley  or  pine,  shall  crown  his  warlike  brows, 
Except  some  other  Milo,  entering  lists, 
Courageously  his  boasted  strength  resists? 
In  deepest  perils  shineth  wisdom's  prime, 
Through  thousand  deaths  true  valor  seeks  to  climb, 
Well  knowing  conquest  yields  but  little  honor 
If  bloody  danger  does  not  wait  upon  her. 

O  gracious  Father,  Thou'st  not  only  lent 
Prudence  to  man,  the  perils  to  prevent, 
Wherewith  these  foes  threaten  his  feeble  life, 
But  for  his  sake  hast  set  at  mutual  strife 
Serpents  with  serpents,  and  hast  made  them  foes 
Which,  unprovoked,  felly  them  oppose. 
Thou  mak'st  th'ichneumon  whom  the  Memphs  adore 
To  rid  of  poisons  Nile's  manured  shore, 
Although,  indeed,  he  doth  not  conquer  them 
So  much  by  strength  as  subtle  stratagem. 
As  he  that,  urged  with  deep  indignity, 
By  a  proud  challenge  doth  his  foe  defy, 
Premeditates  his  posture  and  his  play, 
And  arms  himself  so  complete  every  way, 
With  wary  hand  guided  by  watchful  eye, 
And  ready  foot  to  traverse  skillfully, 
That  the  defendant,  in  the  heat  of  fight, 
Finds  no  part  open  where  his  blade  can  light. 

So  Pharaoh's  rat,  ere  he  begin  the  fray 
'Gainst  the  blind  aspic,  with  a  cleaving  clay 
Upon  his  coat  he  wraps  an  earthen  cake 
Which  afterwards  the  sun's  hot  beams  do  bake, 
Armed  with  this  plaster,  th'aspic  he  approacheth 
And  in  his  throat  his  crooked  tooth  he  broacheth, 
While  th'other  bootless  tries  to  pierce  and  prick 
Through  the  hard  temper  of  his  armor  thick ; 
Yet  knowing  himself  too  weak,  for  all  his  wile, 
Alone  to  match  the  scaly  crocodile, 


THE  SIXTH  DAY.  121 

He  with  the  wren  his  ruin  doth  conspire, 

The  wren,  who  seeing,  pressed  with  sleep's  desire, 

Nile's  poisonous  pirate  press  the  slimy  shore, 

Comes  suddenly  and  hopping  him  before, 

Into  his  mouth  he  skips,  his  teeth  he  pickles, 

Cleanseth  his  palate,  and  his  throat  so  tickles, 

That,  charmed  with  pleasure,  the  dull  serpent  gapes 

Wider  and  wider  with  his  ugly  chaps. 

Then  like  a  shaft  th'ichneumon  instantly 

Into  the  tyrant's  greedy  gorge  doth  fly, 

And  feeds  upon  that  glutton  for  whose  riot 

All  Nile's  far  margins  could  scarce  furnish  diet.      .     .     . 

Already  howls  the  waste-fold  wolf,  the  boar 
Whets  foamy  fangs,  the  hungry  bear  doth  roar, 
The  cat-faced  ounce  that  doth  me  much  dismay, 
With  grumbling  horror  threatens  my  decay; 
The  lightfoot  tiger  and  the  leopard, 
Foaming  with  fury,  do  besiege  me  hard ; 
Then  th'unicorn,  th'hyena  tearing  tombs, 
Swift  mantichor,  and  Nubian  cephus  comes,7 
Of  which  last  three,  each  hath,  as  here  they  stand, 
Man's  voice,  man's  visage,  and  man's  foot  and  hand. 
I  fear  the  beast,  bred  in  the  bloody  coast, 
Of  cannibals,  which  thousand  times  almost, 
Re-whelps  her  whelps,  and  in  her  tender  womb 
She  doth  as  oft  her  living  brood  retomb.8 

But  O  what  monster's  this  that  bids  me  battle, 
On  whose  rough  back  an  host  of  pikes  doth  rattle, 
Who  stringless  shoots  so  many  arrows  out, 
Whose  thorny  sides  are  hedged  round  about 
With  stiff,  steel-pointed  quills,  and  all  his  parts 
Bristled  with  bodkins,  armed  with  awls  and  darts, 


7The  "Index"  does  not  throw  light  on  these  animals  of  which  the 
translator  had  perhaps  never  heard.  In  the  French  text  they  appear 
as  "le  vite  mantichore  et  le  ceph  Nubien."  The  former  seems  to  refer 
to  an  animal  mentioned  by  Ctesias  as  compounded  of  lion,  porcupine 
and  scorpion,  but  with  human  head,  while  the  latter  is  probably  taken 
from  some  story  of  anthropoid  apes. 

8No  doubt  founded  upon  reports  of  marsupials  of  one  kind  or  another. 


122  BUILDING  THE  WORLD. 

Which  ay  fierce  darting  seems  still  fresh  to  spring-, 

And  to  his  aid  still  new  supplies  to  bring. 

O  fortunate,  shaft  never  wanting,  bowman, 

Who,  as  thou  fliest  canst  hit  thy  following  foeman, 

And  never  missest, — or  but  very  narrow, — 

Th'intended  mark  of  thy  self's  kindred  arrow ! 

Who,  still  self-furnished,  needest  borrow  never 

Diana's  shaft  nor  yet  Apollo's  quiver, 

Nor  bowstring  fetch  from  Carian  Alaband,9 

Nor  bow  from  Peru,  but  hast  all  at  hand 

Of  thine  own  growth ;  for  in  thy  hide  do  grow 

The  string,  thy  shafts,  thy  quiver  arid  thy  bow. 

But,  courage  now !  here  comes  the  valiant  beast, 

The  noble  lion,  king  of  all  the  rest ; 

Who,  bravely  minded,  is  as  mild  to  those 

That  yield  to  him  as  fierce  unto  his  foes ; 

To  humble  suitors  neither  stern  nor  stateful, 

To  benefactors  never  found  ungrateful. 

I  call  to  memory  that  same  Roman  thrall 
Who,  to  escape  from  his  mechanical 
And  cruel  master,  that  for  lucre  used  him 
Not  as  a  man,  but  as  a  beast  abused  him, 
Fled  through  the  desert,  and  with  travel  tired, 
At  length  within  a  mossy  cave  retired ; 
But  there  no  sooner  'gan  the  drowsy  wretch 
On  the  soft  grass  his  weary  limbs  to  stretch, 
But,  coming  swift  into  the  cave,  he  seeth 
A  ramping  lion,  gnashing  of  his  teeth. 

A  thief,  to  shameful  execution  sent 
By  justice  for  his  fault's  just  punishment, 
Feeling  his  eyes'  clout,  and  his  elbows'  cord, 
Waiting  for  nothing  but  the  fatal  sword, 
Dies  ere  his  death,  he  looks  so  certainly 
Without  delay  in  that  dread  place  to  die. 
Even  so  the  slave,  seeing  no  means  to  shun 
By  flight  or  fight  his  feared  destruction, 


9Alabanda  was  a  town  south  of  the  Meander  river  in  Caria,  Asia 
Minor.     It  is  now  called  Arabissar. 


THE  SIXTH  DAY.  123 

Having  no  way  to  fly  nor  arms  to  fight, 

But  sighs  and  tears,  prayers  and  woful  plight, 

Embraceth  death ;  abiding  for  a  stoun, 

Pale,  cold  and  senseless,  in  a  deadly  swoun, 

At  last  again  his  courage  'gan  to  gather, 

When  he  perceived  no  rage,  but  pity  rather, 

In  his  new  host,  who,  with  mild  looks  and  meek, 

Seemed,  as  it  were,  succour  of  him  to  seek, 

Showing  him  oft  one  of  his  paws,  wherein 

A  festering  thorn  for  a  long  time  had  been ; 

Then,  though  still  fearful,  did  the  slave  draw  nigher, 

And  from  his  foot  he  lightly  snatched  the  briar, 

And  wringing  gently  with  his  hand  the  wound, 

Caused  the  hot  pus  to  run  upon  the  ground. 

Thenceforth  the  lion  seeks  for  booty  best 
Through  hill  and  dale  to  cheer  his  new  come  guest, 
His  new  physician,  who  for  all  his  cost 
Soon  leaves  his  lodging  and  his  dreadful  host, 
And  once  more  wanders  through  the  wilderness 
Whither  his  froward  fortune  would  address, 
Until,  re-ta'en,  his  fell  lord  brought  him  home, 
For  spectacle  unto  imperial  Rome, 
To  be,  according  to  their  barbarous  laws, 
Bloodily  torn  with  greedy  lion's  paws.       .     .     . 

O'er  all  the  beasts  that  filled  the  Martian  field 
With  blood  and  slaughter,  one  was  most  beheld, — 
One  valiant  lion,  whose  victorious  fights 
Had  conquered  hundreds  of  those  guilty  wights 
Whose  feeble  skirmish  had  but  striven  in  vain 
To  'scape  by  combat  their  deserved  pain. 
That  very  beast,  with  faint  and  fearful  feet 
This  runagate  at  last  is  forced  to  meet ; 
And  being  entered  in  the  bloody  list, 
The  lion  roused  and  ruffled  up  his  crest, 
Shortened  his  body,  sharpened  his  grim  eye, 
And  staring  wide  he  roared  hideously. 
Then  often  swindging10  with  his  sinewy  train 

lO"Swindges  the  scaly  horror  of  his  folded  tail." — Milton's  Ode  on 
the  Nativity. 


124  BUILDING  THE  WORLD. 

Sometimes  his  sides,  sometimes  the  dusty  plain, 
He  whets  his  rage  and  strongly  rampeth  on 
Against  his  foe,  who  nigh  already  gone 
To  drink  of  Lethe,  lifteth  to  the  pole 
Religious  vows, — not  for  his  life,  but  soul. 

After  the  beast  had  marched  some  twenty  pace, 
He  sudden  stopped ;  and  viev/ing  well  the  face 
Of  his  pale  foe,  remembered,  rapt  with  joy, 
That  this  was  he  that  eased  his  annoy ; 
Wherefore,  converted  from  his  hateful  wildness, 
From  pride  to  pity,  and  from  rage  to  mildness, 
On  his  bleak  face  he  both  his  eyes  doth  fix, 
Fawning  for  homage,  and  his  lean  hands  licks. 
The  slave,  thus  knowing  and  thus  being  known, 
Lifts  to  the  heavens  his  front,  now  hoary  grown, 
And  now  no  more  fearing  his  tearing  paws, 
He  strokes  the  lion  and  his  poll  he  claws, 
And  shows  by  proof  that  "A  good  turn  at  need, 
At  first  or  last  shall  be  assured  of  meed." 

There's  under  sun,  as  Delphi's  god  did  show, 
No  better  knowledge  than  ourselves  to  know. 
There  is  no  theme  more  plentiful  to  scan 
Than  is  the  glorious,  goodly  frame  of  man. 
For  in  man's  self  is  fire,  air,  earth  and  sea. 
Man's,  in  a  word,  the  world's  epitome, 
Or  little  map;  which  here  my  muse  doth  try 
By  the  grand  pattern  to  exemplify. 

A  witty  mason  doth  not,  with  rare  art, 
Into  a  palace  Parian  stone  convert, 
Ceil  it  with  gold,  and  to  the  firmament 
Raise  the  proud  turrets  of  his  battlement, 
And,  to  be  brief,  in  every  part  of  it 
Beauty  to  use,  use  unto  beauty  fit, 
To  th'end  the  screech-owl  and  night  raven  should 
In  those  fair  walls  their  habitation  hold ; 
But  rather  for  some  wise  and  wealthy  prince, 
Able  to  judge  of  his  art's  excellence.      .     .     . 

Now,  of  all  creatures  which  His  word  did  make, 
Man  was  the  last  that  living  breath  did  take. 


THE  SIXTH  DAY.  125 

Not  that  he  was  the  least,  or  that  God  durst 
Not  undertake  so  noble  a  work  at  first ; 
Rather  because  He  should  have  made  in  vain 
So  great  a  prince  without  o'er  whom  to  reign. 
A  wise  man  never  brings  his  bidden  guest 
Into  his  parlor  till  his  room  be  dressed, 
Garnished  with  lights,  and  tables  neatly  spread 
Be  with  full  dishes  well  nigh  furnished. 
So  our  great  God  who,  bounteous,  ever  keeps 
Here  open  court,  and  th'ever  boundless  deeps 
Of  sweetest  nectar  on  us  still  distils 
By  twenty  times  ten  thousand  sundry  quills, 
Would  not  our  grandsire  to  His  board  invite 
Ere  He  with  arras  His  fair  house  had  dight, 
And  under  starry  state-cloths  placed  His  plates, 
Filled  with  a  thousand  sugared  delicates. 

All  th'admirable  creatures  made  beforn, 
Which  heaven  and  earth  and  ocean  do  adorn, 
Are  but  essays,  compared  in  every  part 
To  this  divinest  masterpiece  of  art. 
Therefore  the  supreme,  peerless  Architect, 
When  of  mere  nothing  He  did  first  erect 
Heaven,  earth,  air  and  seas,  at  once  His  thought, 
His  word  and  deed  all  in  one  instant  wrought. 
But  when  He  would  His  own  Self's  type  create, — 
Th'honor  of  nature,  earth's  sole  potentate, — 
As  if  He  would  a  council  hold,  He  citeth 
His  sacred  power,  His  prudence  He  inviteth, 
Summons  His  love,  His  justice  He  adjourns, 
Calleth  His  goodness,  and  His  grace  returns, 
To — as  it  were — consult  about  the  birth 
And  building  of  a  second  God — of  earth, — 
And  each  a  part  with  liberal  hand  to  bring 
Some  excellence  unto  so  rare  a  thing. 

Or  rather  He  consults  with's  only  Son, 
His  own  true  portrait,  what  proportion, 
What  gifts,  what  grace,  what  soul  He  should  bestow 
Upon  His  viceroy  of  this  realm  below. 
When  th'other  things  God  fashioned  in  their  kind, 


126  BUILDING  THE  WORLD. 

The  sea  t'abound  in  fishes  He  assigned, 
The  earth  in  flocks;  but  having  man  in  hand, 
His  very  Self  He  seemed  to  command. 
He,  both  at  once,  both  life  and  body  lent 
To  other  things,  but  when  in  man  He  meant 
In  mortal  limbs  immortal  life  to  place, 
He  seemed  to  pause,  as  in  a  weighty  case; 
And  so  at  sundry  moments  finished 
The  soul  and  body  of  earth's  glorious  head. 

Admired  Spirit,  Architect  divine, 
Perfect  and  peerless  in  all  works  of  Thine, 
So  my  rude  hand  on  this  rough  table  guide, 
To  paint  the  prince  of  all  Thy  works  beside, 
That  grave  spectators  in  his  face  may  spy 
Apparent  marks  of  Thy  divinity. 

Almighty  Father !  as  of  watery  matter 
It  pleased  Thee  make  the  people  of  the  water, 
So  of  an  earthy  substance  mad'st  Thou  all 
The  slimy  burghers  of  this  earthly  ball, 
To  th'end  each  creature  might,  as  consequent, 
Part  sympathize  with  his  own  element ; 
Therefore  to  form  Thine  earthly  emperor 
Thou  tookest  earth,  and  by  Thy  sacred  power 
So  tempered  it  that  of  the  very  same 
Dead,  shapeless  lump,  didst  Adam's  body  frame. 
Yet  not  his  face  down  to  the  earthward  bending, 
Like  beasts  that  but  regard  their  belly,  ending 
Forever  all ;  but  toward  the  azure  sky's 
Bright  golden  lamps,  lifting  his  lonely  eyes, 
That  through  their  nerves  his  better  part  might  look 
Still  to  that  place  from  whence  her  birth  she  took. 

Also  Thou  plantedst  th'intellectual  power 
In  th'highest  stage  of  all  this  stately  bower, 
That  thence  it  might,  as  from  a  citadel, 
Command  the  members  that  too  oft  rebel 
Against  his  rule ;  and  that  our  reason  there 
Keeping  continual  garrison  as  it  were, 
Might  avarice,  envy  and  pride  subdue, 
Lust,  gluttony,  wrath,  sloth  and  all  their  crew 


THE  SIXTH  DAY.  127 

Of  factious  commons  that  still  strive  to  gain 
The  golden  scepter  from  their  sovereign. 

Th'eyes,  body's  guides,  are  set  for  sentinel 
In  noblest  place  of  all  this  citadel, 
To  spy  far  off  that  no  mishap  befall 
At  unawares  the  sacred  animal. 
In  forming  these,  Thy  hand,  so  famous  held, 
Seemeth  almost  to  have  itself  excelled ; 
Them  not  transpiercing,  lest  our  eyes  should  be 
As  theirs  that  heaven  through  hollow  canes  do  see, 
Yet  see  small  circuit  of  the  welkin  bright. 
The  cane's  strict  compass  doth  so  clasp  their  sight ; 
And  lest  so  many  open  holes  disgrace 
The  goodly  form  of  th'earthly  monarch's  face. 

These  lovely  lamps,  whose  sweet  sparks  lively  turning 
With  sudden  glance  set  coldest  hearts  a-burning, 
These  windows  of  the  soul,11  these  starry  twins, 
These  Cupid's  quivers,  have  so  tender  skins 
Through  which,  as  through  a  pair  of  shining  glasses 
Their  radiant  point  of  piercing  splendor  passes, 
That  they  would  soon  be  quenched  and  put  out 
But  that  the  Lord  hath  bulwarked  them  about, 
By  seating  so  their  wondrous  orb,  betwix 
The  front,  the  nose,  and  the  vermilion  cheeks.       .     .     . 
And  as  a  pent-house12  doth  preserve  a  wall 
From  rain  and  hail  and  other  storms  that  fall, 
The  twinkling  lids,  with  their  quick  trembling  hairs 
Defend  the  eyes  from  thousand  dangerous  fears. 

Who  fain  would  see  how  much  a  human  face 
A  comely  nose  doth  beautify  and  grace, 
Behold  Zopyrus  who  cut  off  his  nose 
For's  prince's  sake,  to  circumvent  his  foes. 
The  nose  no  less  for  use  than  beauty  makes ; 
For  as  a  conduit  it  both  gives  and  takes 


ir'The  window  of  my  heart,  mine  eyes,"  Love's  Labor's  Lost  V,  2,  848; 
"The  windows  of  mine  eyes,"  Rich.  Ill,  V,  3,  116.  See  also  Cymbeline 
II,  2,  22,  Romeo  and  Juliet,  IV,  1,  100. 

isShakespeare  derived  his  "pent-house  lids"  in  Macbeth  from  this 
passage. 


128  BUILDING  THE  WORLD. 

Our  living  breath.     It's  as  a  pipe  put  up 
Whereby  the  moist  brain's  spongy  bone  doth  sup 
Sweet  smelling  fumes.     It  serveth  as  a  gutter 
To  rid  the  system  of  superfluous  matter 
As  by  the  skull-seams  and  the  pory  skin 
Evaporate  that  which  is  light  and  thin, — 
As  through  black  chimneys  flees  the  bitter  smoke 
Which,  but  so  vented,  would  the  household  choke. 
And  since  that  Time  doth  with  his  secret  file 
Fret  and  diminish  each  thing  every  while; 
And  whatsoever  here  begins  and  ends 
Wears  every  hour,  and  itself's  substance  spends, 
Th'Almighty  made  the  mouth  to  recompense 
The  stomach's  pension  and  the  time's  expense, 
Even  as  the  green  trees  by  their  roots  resume 
Sap,  for  the  sap  that  hourly  they  consume, 
And  placed  it  so  that  always,  by  the  way, 
By  scent  of  meats  the  nose  might  take  essay, 
The  watchful  eye  might  true  distinction  make 
'Twixt  herbs  and  weeds,  betwixt  an  eel  and  snake, 
And  then  th'impartial  tongue  might,  at  the  last, 
Censure13  their  goodness  by  their  savory  taste. 

Two'  equal  ranks  of  orient  pearls  impale 
The  open  throat,  which,  queen-like,  grinding  small 
Th'imperfect  food,  soon  to  the  stomach  send  it 
(Our  master  cook  whose  due  concoctions  mend  it,) 
But  lest  the  teeth,  naked  and  bare  to  light, 
Should  in  the  face  present  a  ghastly  sight, 
With  wondrous  art  over  that  pale  do  meet 
Two  moving  leaves  of  coral,  soft  and  sweet. 

O  mouth,  by  thee  the  rudest  wits  have  learned 
The  noble  arts  which  but  the  wise  discerned. 
By  thee  we  kindle  in  the  coldest  spirits 
Heroic  flames,  effecting  glorious  merits. 
By  thee  we  wipe  the  tears  of  woful  eyes  ;14 


i3"Censure"  is  equivalent  with  "judge." 

i4An  edition  of  this  part  of  the  Divine  Weeks  was  published  in  1598. 
and  perhaps  other  editions  before  that.  The  authorized  edition  of 
the  English  Bible  was  first  printed  in  1611,  but  I  am  not  able  to 


THE  SIXTH  DAY.  129 

By  thee  we  stop  the  stubborn  mutinies 
Of  our  rebellious  flesh,  whose  restless  treason 
Strives  to  dethrone  and  to  disscepter  reason. 
By  thee  our  souls  with  heaven  have  conversation ; 
By  thee  we  calm  th'Almighty's  indignation, 
When  faithful  sighs  from  our  souls'  center  fly 
About  the  bright  throne  of  His  majesty. 
By  thee  we  warble  to  the  King  of  Kings ; 
Our  tongue's  the  bow,  our  teeth  the  trembling  strings, 
Our  hollow  nostrils  with  their  double  vent 
The  hollow  body  of  the  instrument ; 
Our  soul's  the  sweet  musician  that  plays 
So  divine  lessons  and  so  heavenly  lays, 
As  in  deep  passion  of  pure  burning  zeal, 
Jove's  forked  lightnings  from  his  fingers  steal. 
But  O  what  member  hath  more  marvels  in't 
Than  th'ear's  round-winding,  double  labyrinth? 
The  body's  scouts,  of  sounds  the  censurers, 
Doors  of  the  soul,  and  faithful  messengers 
Of  divine  treasures,  when  our  gracious  Lord 
Sends  us  th'embassage  of  His  sacred  word. 
And  since  all  sound  seems  always  to  ascend, 
God  placed  the  ears  where  they  might  best  attend, 
As  in  two  turrets  on  the  building's  top, 
Snailing  their  hollow  entries  so  aslope 
That  while  the  voice  about  those  windings  wanders 
The  sound  might  lengthen  in  the  bowed  meanders; 
As  from  a  trumpet  wind  hath  longer  life 
Or  from  a  sackbut,  than  from  flute  or  fife ; 
Or  as  a  noise  extendeth  far  and  wide 
In  winding  vales  or  by  the  crooked  side 
Of  crawling  rivers,  or  with  broken  trouble 
Between  the  teeth  of  hollow  rocks  doth  double ; 
And  that  no  sudden  sound,  with  violence 

inform  myself  at  present  whether  the  biblical  allusions  in  Isaiah  XXV, 
8,  and  Revelations  VII,  17;  XXI,  4,  to  the  wiping  of  tearful  eyes  was 
expressed  in  like  manner  in  the  earlier  bibles.  The  original  French 
of  Sylvester's  line  is,  'Par  toi  nous  essuyons  des  plus  tristes  les  yeux." 
Milton's  line  in  Lycidas,  "And  wipe  the  tears  forever  from  his  eyes," 
should  not  be  overlooked  in  the  examination. 


130  BUILDING  THE  WORLD. 

Piercing  direct  the  organs  of  this  sense, 

Should  stun  the  brain, — but  through  these  mazy  holes 

Convey  the  voice  more  softly  to  our  souls.       .     .     . 

But  is't  not  time  now,  in  his  inner  parts 
To  see  th' Almighty's  admirable  arts? 
First  with  my  lancet  shall  I  make  incision 
To  see  the  cells  of  the  twin  brain's  division, — 
The  treasurer  of  arts,  the  source  of  sense, 
The  seat  of  reason,  and  the  fountain,  whence 
Our  sinews  flow,  whom  nature's  providence 
Armed  with  a  helm  whose  double  linings  fence 
The  brain's  cold  moisture  from  its  bony  armor 
Whose  hardness  else  might  hap  to  bruise  or  harm  her, — 
A  register,  where  with  a  secret  touch 
The  studious  daily  some  rare  knowledge  couch. 

O  how  shall  I  on  learned  leaf  forth  set 
That  curious  maze,  that  admirable  net, 
Through  whose  fine  folds  the  spirit  doth  rise  and  fall, 
Making  its  powers  of  vital,  animal ; 
Even  as  the  blood  and  spirits,  wandering 
Through  the  preparing  vessel's  crooked  ring, 
Are  in  their  winding  course  concoct  and  wrought, 
And  by  degrees  to  fruitful  seed  are  brought? 

Shall  I  the  heart's  unequal  sides  explain, 
Which  equal  poise  doth  equally  sustain? 
Whereof  one's  filled  with  blood ;  in  th'other  bides 
The  vital  spirit  which  through  the  body  slides, 
Whose  restless  panting  by  the  constant  pulse 
Doth  witness  health, — or  if  that  take  repulse 
And  shift  the  dance  and  wonted  pace  it  went, 
It  show's  that  nature's  wronged  by  accident. 

Or  shall  I  cleave  the  lungs,  whose  motions  lig"ht 
Our  inward  heat  do  temper  day  and  night? 
As  summer  gales,  waving  with  gentle  puffs 
The  smiling  meadows'  green  and  gaudy  tuffs  ;15 
Light,  spongy  fans,  that  ever  take  and  give 


l5"Tuff"  is  the  earlier  and  more  appropriate  form  of  "tuft"  which 
in  the  French  from  which  it  is  taken  is  "touffe". 


THE  SIXTH  DAY.  131 

Th'ethereal  air  whereby  we  breathe  and  live ; 

Bellows  whose  blast,  breathing  by  certain  pauses, 

A  pleasant  sound  through  our  speech-organs  causes. 

Or  shall  I  rip  the  stomach's  hollowness? 
That  ready  cook,  concocting  every  mess, 
Which  in  short  time  it  cunningly  converts 
Into  pure  liquor,  fit  to  feed  the  parts, 
And  then  the  same  doth  faithfully  deliver 
Into  the  port-vein,  passing  to  the  liver, 
Who  turns  it  soon  to  blood,  and  thence  again 
Through  branching  pipes  of  the  great,  hollow  vein, 
Through  all  the  members  doth  it  duly  scatter 
Much  like  a  fountain  whose  divided  water 
Itself  dispersing  in  a  hundred  brooks 
Bathes  some  fair  garden  with  her  winding  crooks. 
For  as  these  brooks,  thus  branching  round  about, 
Make  here  the  pink,  there  th'aconite  to  sprout, 
Here  the  sweet  plum  tree,  the  sharp  mulb'ry  there, 
Here  the  low  vine  and  there  the  lofty  pear,      .     . 
Even  so  the  blood  bred  of  good  nourishment 
By  divers  pipes  to  all  the  body  sent, 
Turns  here  to  bones,  there  changes  into  nerves, 
Here  is  made  marrow,  there  for  muscles  serves, 
Here  skin  becomes,  there  crooking  veins,  there  flesh, 
To  make  our  limbs  more  forceful  and  more  fresh. 

But  now  we  list  no  nearer  view  to  take 
Of  th'inward  parts  which  God  did  secret  make, 
Nor  pull  in  pieces  all  the  human  frame. 
That  work  were  fitter  for  those  men  of  fame, 
Those  skillful  sons  of  Esculapius, 
Hippocrates,  or  deep  Herophilus, 
Or  th'eloquent  and  artificial  writ  (wit?) 
Of  Galen,  that  renowned  Pergamite. 
Sufficeth  me  in  some  sort  to  express 
By  this  essay  the  sacred  mightiness 
Not  of  Japhetus'  witty-feigned  son, 
But  of  the  true  Prometheus,  that  begun, 
And  finished  with  inimitable  art 
The  famous  image  I  have  sung  in  part. 


132  BUILDING  THE  WORLD. 

Now  this  more  peerless,  learned  Imager, 
Life  to  His  lovely  picture  to  confer, 
Did  not  extract  out  of  the  elements 
A  certain  secret  chemic  quintessence; 
But  breathing,  sent  as  from  the  lively  spring 
Of  His  divineness  some  small  riverling, 
Itself  dispersing  into  every  pipe 
Of  the  frail  engine  of  His  earthen  type. 
Not  that  His  own  self's  essence  blest  He  brake, 
Or  did  His  triple  unity  partake, 
Unto  His  work ;  but  without  self's  expense, 
Inspired  it  richly  with  rare  excellence, 
And  by  His  power  so  spread  His  rays  thereon 
That  even  yet  appears  a  portion 
Of  that  pure  luster  of  celestial  light 
Wherewith  at  first  it  was  adorned  and  dight. 

This  Adam's  spirit  did  from  that  Spirit  derive 
That  made  the  world ;  yet  did  not  thence  deprive 
Of  God's  self-substance  any  part  at  all, 
As  in  the  course  of  nature  doth  befall, 
That  from  the  essence  of  an  earthly  father 
An  earthly  son  essential  parts  doth  gather; 
Or  as  in  springtime  from  one  sappy  twig 
There  sprouts  another  consubstantial  sprig. 
In  brief  it's  but  a  breath.     Now,  though  the  breath 
Out  of  our  stomach's  concave  issueth, 
Yet  of  our  substance  it  transporteth  naught, 
Only  it  seemeth  to  be  simply  fraught, 
And  to  retain  the  purer  qualities 
Of  th'inward  place  whence  it  derived  is. 
Inspired  by  this  breath,  this  breath  desire 
I  to  describe.     Whoso  doth  not  admire 
Its  spirit  is  sprightless,  and  his  sense  is  past 
Who  hath  no  sense  of  that  admired  blast. 

Yet  wot  I  well  that  as  the  eye  perceives 
All  but  itself,  even  so  our  soul  conceives 
All  save  her  own  self's  essence;  but  the  end 
Of  her  own  greatness  cannot  comprehend. 
The  boisterous  wind  that  rends  with  roaring  blasts 


THE  SIXTH  DAY.  138 

The  lofty  pines,  and  to  the  welkin  casts 
Millions  of  mountains  from  the  watery  world, 
And  proudest  turrets  to  the  ground  hath  whirled; 
The  pleasing  fume  that  fragrant  roses  yield 
When  wanton  Zephyr,  sighing  on  the  field, 
Enamels16  all,  and  to  delight  the  eye 
The  earth  puts  on  her  richest  livery; 
Th'accorded  discords  that  are  sweetly  sent 
From  th'ivory  ribs  of  some  rare  instrument, 
Cannot  be  seen;  but  he  may  well  be  thought 
Devoid  of  sense  who  holds  these  things  for  naught. 

Although  our  soul's  pure  substance  to  our  sight 
Be  not  subjected,  yet  her  motion  light 
And  rich  discourse  sufficient  proofs  do  .give 
That  we've  more  soul  than  to  suffice  to  live, — 
A  soul  divine,  pure,  sacred,  admirable, 
Immortal,   endless,    simple,   impalpable       .     . 
And  whether  brain  or  heart  do  lodge  the  soul — 
O  Seneca,  where,  where  couldst  thou  enroll 
Those  many  hundred  words  in  prose  or  verse, 
Which  at  first  hearing  thou  couldst  back  rehearse? 
Whence  could  great  Cyrus  that  great  table  shut 
Wherein  the  pictures  and  the  names  were  put 
Of  all  the  soldiers  that  by  thousands  wandered 
After  the  fortunes  of  his  famous  standard? 
In  what  deep  vessel  did  th'ambassador 
Of  Pyrrhus — whom  the  Delphian  oracler 
Deluded  by  his  double-meaning  measures, — 
Into  what  cisterns  did  he  pour  those  treasures 
Of  learned  store,  which,  after,  for  his  use 
In  time  and  place  he  could  so  fit  produce? 

The  memory  is  the  eyes'  true  register, 
The  peasants'  book,  Time's  wealthy  treasurer, 
Keeping  record    of  acts  and  accidents 


l6"O'er  the  smooth  enameled  green." — Milton's  Arcades,  Song  II. 
Sylvester  also  has  "Ver's  enameled  tapestry"  in  the  first  section  of 
Adam,  "The  enameled  meads"  in  the  third  section  and  in  two  or  three 
of  the  later  poems  the  same  metaphor. 


134  BUILDING  THE  WORLD. 

Whatever,  subject  unto  human  sense, 
Since  first  the  Lord  the  world's  foundations  laid, 
Or  Phoebus  first  his  golden  locks  displayed, 
And  his  pale  sister  from  his  beaming  light 
Borrowed  her  splendor  to  adorn  the  night. 
So  that  our  reason,  searching  curiously 
Through  all  the  rolls  of  a  good  memory, 
And  fastening  closely  with  a  Gordian  knot 
To  past  events  what  present  times  allot, 
Foresees  the  future,  and  becomes  more  sage, 
More  happily  to  lead  our  later  age. 

And  though  our  soul  live  as  imprisoned  here 
In  our  frail  flesh,  or  buried  as  it  were 
In  a  dark  tomb ;  yet  at  one  flight  she  fllies 
From  Calpe  to  Imaus,  from  earth  to  skies, 
Much  swifter  than  the  chariot  of  the  sun, 
Which  in  a  day  about  the  world  doth  run. 
For  sometimes,  leaving  these  base,  slimy  heaps, 
With  cheerful  spring  above  the  clouds  she  leaps, 
Glides  through  the  air,  and  there  essays  to*  know 
Th'originals  of  wind  and  hail  and  snow, 
Of  lightning,  thunder,  blazing  stars,  and  storms 
Of  rain  and  ice,  and  strange  exhaled  forms. 
By  th'air's  steep  stairs  she  boldly  climbs  aloft 
To  the  world's  chambers.     Heaven  she  visits  oft, 
Stage  after  stage.     She  marketh  all  the  spheres, 
And  all  th'harmonious,  various  course  of  theirs. 
With  sure  account  and  certain  compasses 
She  counts  the  stars,  and  metes  their  distances 
And  differing  paces,  and,  as  if  she  found 
No  subject  fair  enough  in  all  this  round, 
She  mounts  above  the  world's  extremest  wall, 
Far,  far  beyond  all  things  corporeal, 
And  there  beholds  her  Maker  face  to  face, — 
His  frowns  of  justice  and  His  smiles  of  grace, 
The  faithful  zeal,  the  chaste  and  sober  port 
And  sacred  pomp  of  the  celestial  court.17 

I71n  Milton's  "Vacation  Exercise"  is  an  evident  paraphrase  of  this, 


THE  SIXTH  DAY.  135 

What  can  be  hard  to  a  sloth-shunning  spirit, 
Spurred  with  desire  of  fame's  eternal  merit? 
Look,  if  thou  canst,  from  east  to  Occident, 
From  Iceland  to  the  Moors'  dark  continent, 
And  thou  shalt  naught  perfectly  fair  behold, 
But  pen  or  pencil,  graving  tool  or  mould 
Hath  so  resembled  that  scarce  can  our  eye 
The  counterfeit  from  the  true  thing  descry.       .     .     . 

The  art  of  man  not  only  can  compact 
Features  and  forms  that  life  and  motion  lack, 
But  also  fill  the  air  with  painted  shoals 
Of  flying  creatures,  artificial  fowls. 
The  Tarentines'  valiant  and  learned  lord, 
Archytas,  made  a  wooden  dove,  that  soared 
About  the  welkin,  by  th'accorded  slights 
And  counterpoise  of  sundry  little  weights. 
Why -should  I  not  that  wooden  eagle  mention, 
A  learned  German's  late,  admired  invention, 
Which,  mounting  from  his  fist  that  framed  her, 
Flew  far  to  meet  an  Almain  emperor, 
And  having  met  him,  with  her  nimble  train 
And  weary  wings  turning  about  again, 
Followed  him  close  unto  the  castle  gate 
Of  Nuremburg;  whom  all  the  shows  of  state, 
Streets  hung  with  arras,  arches  curious  built, 
Loud  thundering  cannons,  columns  richly  gilt, 
Gray-headed  senate,  and  youths'  gallantise 
Graced  not  so  much  as  only  this  device. 

Once  as  this  artist  more  with  mirth  than  meat 
Feasted  some  friends  that  he  esteemed  great, 


beginning — 

"Such    where    the    deep-transported    mind    may    soar 
Above  the  whirling  poles,  and  at  Heaven's  door 
Look  in,  and  see  each  blissful  deity,"  etc. 

Sylvester's  translation  of  Du  Bartas's  "Urania"  also  has  the  following 
stanza: 

"I  am  Urania,"  then  aloud  said  she, 

"Who  human-kind  above  the  poles  transport, 
Teaching  their  hands  to  touch,  and  eyes  to  see 
All  th'  intercourse  of  the  celestial  court" 


136  BUILDING  THE  WORLD. 

From  tinder's  hand  an  iron  fly  flew  out, 

Which,  having  flown  a  perfect  roundabout, 

With  weary  wings  returned  to  her  master, 

And,  as  with  judgment,  on  his  arm  she  placed  her. 

O  divine  wit,  that  in  the  narrow  womb 

Of  a  small  fly  could  find  sufficient  room 

For  all  those  springs,  wheels,  counterpoise  and  chains 

Which  stood  instead  of  life  and  spurs  and  reins ! 

Yea,  you  yourselves,  ye  bright  celestial  orbs, 

Although  no  stop  your  restless  dance  disturbs, 

Nor  stays  your  course ;  yet  can  ye  not  escape 

The  hands  of  man  that  are  men  but  in  shape. 

A  Persian  monarch,  not  content  well-nigh 
With  the  earth's  bounds  to  bound  his  empery, 
To  reign  in  heaven  raised  not  with  bold  defiance 
(Like  braving  Nimrod,  or  the  boisterous  giants,) 
Another  Babel,  or  a  heap  of  hills ; 
But  without  moving  from  the  earth,  he  builds 
A  heaven  of  glass,  so  huge  that  thereupon 
Sometimes  erecting  his  ambitious  throne, 
Beneath  his  proud  feet,  like  a  god,  he  saw 
The  shining  lamps  of  th'other  heaven  to  draw 
Down  to  the  deep,  and  thence  again  advance 
Like  glorious  brides  their  golden  radiance. 
Yet  had  that  heaven  no  wondrous  excellence 
Save  greatness,  worthy  of  so  great  a  prince. 

But  who  would  think  that  mortal  hands  could  mould 
New  heavens,  new  stars,  whose  whirling  courses  should 
With   constant  windings,  through   contrary  ways, 
Mark  the  true  mounds18  of  years  and  months  and  days? 
Yet  'tis  a  story  that  hath  oft  been  heard 
And  by  grave  witness  hundred  times  averred, 
That  that  profound  Briareus19  who  of  yore — 


iSAlthough  it  seems  to  the  present  editor  that  "rounds"  ought  to 
take  the  place  of  this  word,  the  fact  that  it  appears  in  the  above  shape 
in  all  the  Sylvestrian  editions  of  the  17th  century  has  decided  the 
question  adversely  to  any  substitution. 

WArchimedes. 


THE  SIXTH  DAY.  137 

(As  himself  armed  with  thousand  hands  or  more,) 
Maintained  so  long  the  Syracusan  towers 
'Gainst  great  Marcellus  and  his  Roman  powers, 
Who  fired  his  foe's  fleet  with  a  wondrous  glass, 
Who,  hugest  vessels  that  did  ever  pass 
The  Tyrrhene  seas,  turned  only  with  his  hand 
From  shore  to  sea,  and  from  the  sea  to  land, — 
Framed  a  sphere  where  every  wandering  light 
Of  lower  heavens,  and  th'upper  tapers  bright, 
Whose  glistering  flames  the  firmament  adorn, 
Did  of  themselves  with  ruled  motion  turn. 

Nor  may  we  smother,  or  forget  ungrately 
That  heaven  of  silver  that  was  sent  but  lately 
From  Ferdinando  as  a  famous  work 
Unto  Byzantium  to  the  supreme  Turk; 
Wherein  a  spirit  still  moving  to  and  fro 
Made  all  the  engine  orderly  to  go, 
And  though  our  sphere  did  always  slowly  slide, 
And,  opposite,  the  other  swiftly  glide, 
Yet  still  their  stars  kept  all  their  courses  even 
With  the  true  courses  of  the  stars  in  heaven. 
The  sun,  there  shifting  in  the  zodiac 
His  shining  houses,  never  did  forsake 
His  'pointed  path.     There  in  a  month  his  sister 
Fulfilled  her  course,  and  changing  oft  her  luster 
And  form  of  face, — now  larger,  lesser  soon, — 
Followed  the  changes  of  the  other  moon. 

O  complete  creature!  who  the  starry  spheres 
Canst  make  to  move ;  who  'bove  the  heavenly  Bears 
Extend'st  thy  power;  who  guidest  with  thy  hand 
The  day's  bright  chariot  and  the  nightly  brand; 
This  curious  lust  to  imitate  the  best 
And  fairest  works  of  the  Almightiest, 
By  rare  effects  bears  record  of  thy  lineage 
And  high  descent;  and  that  His  sacred  image 
Was  in  thy  soul  engraven  when  first  His  spirit, 
The  spring  of  life,  did  in  thy  limbs  inspire  it. 

For  as  His  beauties  are  past  all  compare, 
So  is  thy  soul  all  beautiful  and  fair. 


138  BUILDING  THE  WORLD. 

As  He's  immortal  and  is  never  idle, 

Thy  soul's  immortal  and  can  brook  no  bridle 

Of  sloth  to  curb  her  busy  intellect. 

He  ponders  all ;  thou  weighest  each  effect ; 

And  thy  mature  and  settled  sapience 

Hath  some  alliance  with  His  providence. 

He  works  by  reason,  thou  by  rule.     He's  glory 

Of  th'heavenly  stages,  thou  of  th'earthly  story. 

He's  great  High  Priest ;  thou  His  great  vicar  here. 

He's  Sovereign  Prince  and  thou  His  viceroy  dear. 

For  soon  as  ever  He  had  framed  thee, 
Into  thy  hands  he  put  this  monarchy; 
Made  all  the  creatures  know  thee  for  their  lord, 
And  come  before  thee  of  their  own  accord, 
And  gave  thee  power  as  master  to  impose 
Fit,  senseful  names  unto  the  host  that  rows 
In  watery  regions,  and  the  wandering  herds 
Of  forest  people,  and  the  painted20  birds. 
O  too,  too  happy,  had  that  fall  of  thine 
Not  canceled  so  the  character  divine. 

But  since  our  soul's  now  sin-obscured  light 
Shines  through  the  lantern  of  our  flesh  so  bright; 
What  sacred  splendor  will  this  star  send  forth 
When  it  shall  shine  without  this  veil  of  earth? 
The  soul,  here  lodged,  is  like  a  man  that  dwells 
In  an  ill  air,  annoyed  with  noisome  smells  ; 
In  an  old  house,  open  to  wind  and  weather, — 
Never  in  health;  not  half  an  hour  together; 
Or  almost  like  a  spider,  who,  confined 
In  her  web's  center,  stirred  with  every  wind, 
Moves  in  an  instant  if  a  buzzing  fly 
Stirs  but  a  thread  of  her  lawn  canopy. 

You  that  have  seen  within  this  ample  table 
Among  SO'  many  models  admirable, 
Th'admired  beauties  of  the  king  of  creatures, 


20Fainted,  as  In  Shakespeare's  Love's  Labor's  Lost  (V,  1,)  the  mead- 
ows are  painted. 


THE  SIXTH  DA¥.  139 

Come,  come  and  see  the  woman's  rapting  features, 

Without  whom  here  man  were  but  half  a  man, — 

But  a  wild  wolf, — but  a  barbarian, 

Brute,  rageful,  fierce,  moody,  melancholic, 

Hating  the  light,  whom  naught  but  naught  could  like ; 

Born  solely  for  himself,  devoid  of  sense, 

Of  heart,  of  love,  of  life,  of  excellence. 

God,  therefore,  not  to  seem  less  liberal 

To  man  than  else  to  every  animal, 

For  perfect  pattern  of  a  holy  love 

To  Adam's  half  another  half  He  gave, 

Ta'en  from  his  side,  to  bind  through  every  age 

With  kinder  bonds  the  sacred  marriage. 

Even  as  a  surgeon,  minding  off  to  cut21 
Some  cureless  limb,  before  in  use  he  put 
His  violent  engines  on  the  vicious  member, 
Bringeth  his  patient  in  a  senseless  slumber, 
And  painless  then,  guided  by  use  and  art, 
To  save  the  whole  saws  off  th'infected  part ; 
So  God  empaled  our  grandsire's  lively  look, 
Through  all  his  bones  a  deadly  chil'ness  struck, 
Sealed  up  his  sparkling  eyes  with  iron  bands, 
Led  down  his  feet  almost  to  Lethe's  sands; 
In  brief,  so  numbed  his  soul's  and  body's  sense 
That  without  pain  opening  his  side,  from  thence 
He  took  a  rib  which  rarely  He  refined, 
And  thereof  made  the  mother  of  mankind. 
Graving  so  lifelike  on  the  living  bone 
All  Adam's  beauties,  that  but  hardly,  one 
Could  have  the  lover  from  his  love  descried, 
Or  known  the  bridegroom  from  his  gentle  bride, 
Saving  that  she  had  a  more  smiling  eye, 
A  smoother  chin,  a  cheek  of  purer  dye, 
A  fainter  voice,  a  more  enticing  face, 
A  deeper  tress,  a  more  delightful  grace.      .     .     . 

Now,  after  this  profound  and  pleasing  trance. 


2iSee   article   "Anaesthesia,"     Enc.  Brit.,  9th  edition,  vol.  1. 


140  BUILDING  THE  WORLD. 

No  sooner  Adam's  ravished  eyes  did  glance 

On  the  rare  beauties  of  his  new  come  half, 

But  in,  his  heart  he  'gan  to  leap  and  laugh, 

Kissing  her  kindly,  calling  her  his  life, 

His  love,  his  stay,  his  rest,  his  weal,  his  wife, 

His  other  self,  his  help,  him  to  refresh, 

Bone  of  his  bone,  flesh  of  his  very  flesh.      .     .     . 

O  blessed  bond!     O  happy  marriage, 
Which  does  the  match  'twixt  Christ  and  us  presage ! 
O  chastest  friendship,  whose  rare  flames  impart 
Two  souls  in  one,  two  hearts  into  one  heart ! 
O  holy  knot,  in  Eden  instituted, — 
Not  in  this  earth,  with  blood  and  wrongs  polluted, 
Profaned  with  mischiefs  the  pre-scene  of  hell 
To  cursed  creatures  that  'gainst  heaven  rebel, — 
O  sacred  covenant,  which  the  sinless  Son 
Of  a  pure  virgin,  when  He  first  begun 
To  publish  proofs  of  His  dread  power  divine 
By  turning  water  into  perfect  wine 
At  lesser  Cana,  in  a  wondrous  manner 
Did  with  His  presence  sanctify  and  honor. 

By  thy  dear  favor,  after  our  decease 
We  leave  behind  our  living  images, 
Change  war  to  peace,  in  kindred  multiply, 
And  in  our  children  live  eternally. 
By  it  we  quench  the  wild  and  wanton  fires 
That  in  our  souls  the  Paphian  shot  inspires, 
And,  taught  by  Thee  a  love  more  firm,  and  fitter, 
We  find  the  mel  more  sweet,  the  gall  less  bitter, 
Which  here  by  turns  heap  up  our  human  life 
Even  now  with  joys,  anon  with  jars  and  strife. 

This  done,  the  Lord  commands  the  happy  pair 
With  chaste  embraces  to  replenish  fair 
Th'unpeopled  world;  that,  while  the  world  endures, 
Here  might  succeed  their  living  portraitures. 
He  had  imposed  the  like  precept  before 
On  th'ireful  droves  that  in  the  deserts  war, 
The  feathered  flocks,  the  fruitful  spawning  legions 
That  live  within  the  liquid  crystal  regions. 


THE  SIXTH  DAY.  141 

Thenceforth,  therefore,  bears  bears  engendered, 

The  dolphins  dolphins,  vultures  vultures  bred, 

Men,  men ;  and  nature,  with  a  changeless  course 

Still  brought  forth  issue  like  their  ancestors ; 

Though  since,  indeed,  as,  when  the  fire  has  mixed  them, 

The  yellow  gold  and  silver  pale,  betwixt  them 

Another  metal,  like  to  neither  make. 

Which  yet  of  cither's  riches  doth  partake, — 

So,  oft,  two  creatures  of  a  differing  kind, 

Against  the  common  course  through  all  assigned, 

Confounding  their  lust-burning  seeds  together, 

Beget  an  elf  not  like  in  all  to  either, 

But  surely  bearing  mongrel  marks  apparent 

Of  mingled  members,  ta'en  from  either  parent. 

God,  not  contented  to  each  kind  to  give 
And  to  infuse  the  virtue  generative, 
Made  by  His  wisdom  many  creatures  breed 
Of  lifeless  bodies,  growing  without  seed. 
So  the  cold  humor  breeds  the  salamander, 
Who  in  effect,  like  to  her  birth's  commander. 
Pregnant  with  hundred  winters,  with  her  touch 
Quencheth  the  fire,  though  glowing  ne'er  so  much. 
So  of  the  fire,  in  burning  furnace  springs 
The  fly,  pyrausta,  with  the  flaming  wings. 
Without  the  fire  it  dies;  within,  it  joys; 
Living  in  that  which  other  life  destroys. 

So  slow  Bootes  underneath  him  sees 
In  th'icy  isles  those  goslings  hatched  of  trees, 
Whose  fruitful  leaves,  falling  into  the  water, 
Are  turned,  they  say,  to  living  fowls  soon  after. 
So  rotten  sides  of  broken  ships  do  change 
To  barnacles.     O  transformation  strange! 
'Twas  first  a  green  tree ;  then  a  gallant  hull ; 
Lately  a  mushroom ;  now  a  flying  gull. 


In  Sec.  15  of  Part  One  of  Sir  Thomas  Browne's  Religio  Medici 
may  be  found  several  allusions  to  events  of  this  "Day",  and  espec- 
ially to  the  artificial  fly  and  eagle  credited  to  Regiomontanus. 


THE  SEVENTH  DAY 

The  cunning  painter  that  with  curious  care, 
Limning  a  landscape,  various,  rich  and  rare, 
Hath  set  a-work,  in  all  and  every  part, 
Invention,  judgment,  nature,  use  and  art; 
And  hath  at  length,  t'immortalize  his  name, 
With  weary  pencil  perfected  the  same; 
Forgets  his  pains,  and  inly  filled  with  glee, 
Still  on  his  picture  gazeth  greedily.      .     .     . 
So  th'Architect  whose  glorious  workmanships 
My  cloudy  muse  doth  but  too  much  eclipse, 
Having  with  painless  pains  and  careless  care, 
In  these  six  days  finished  the  table  fair 
And  infinite,  of  th'universal  ball, 
Resteth  this  day  t'admire  Himself  in  all; 
And  for  a  season  eyeing  nothing  else, 
Joys  in  His  work  since  all  His  work  excels. 
(If  my  dull,  stutting,1  frozen  eloquence 
May  dare  conjecture  of  His  high  intents). 

One  while2  He  sees  how  th'ample  sea  doth  take 
The  liquid  homage  of  each  other  lake, 
And  how,  again,  the  heavens  exhale  from  it 
Abundant  vapors  for  our  benefit. 
And  yet  it  swells  not  for  those  tribute  streams, 
Nor  yet  it  shrinks  not  for  those  boiling  beams. 
There  sees  He  th'ocean-people's  plenteous  broods, 
And  shifting  courses  of  the  ebbs  and  floods, 


l"Stutt"  is  the  older  form  of  stutter. 

2"One  while"  is  a  phrase   often  heard   in  the  northern  American 
states,  and  perhaps  elsewhere. 


144  BUILDING  THE  WORLD. 

Which,  with  inconstant  glances  night  and  day, 

The  lower  planet's  forked  front  doth  sway. 

Anon  upon  the  flowery  plains  He  looks, 

Laced  about  with  snaking  silver  brooks. 

Now  He  delights  to  see  four  brethren's  strife 

Cause  the  world's  peace,  and  keep  the  world  in  life ; 

Anon  to  see  the  whirling  spheres  to  roll 

In  restless  dances  about  either  pole, 

Whereby  their  cressets,  carried  divers  ways, 

Now  visit  us,  anon  th'antipodes. 

It  glads  Him  now  to  note  how  th'orb  of  flame 

Which  girds  this  globe  doth  not  enfire  the  frame ; 

How  th'air's  glib-gliding,  firmless  body  bears 

Such  store  of  fowls,  hailstorms,  and  floods  of  tears ; 

How  th'heavy  water,  pronest  to  descend, 

Twixt  air  and  earth  is  able  to  depend;3 

And  how  the  dull  earth's  propless,  massy  ball 

Stands  steady  still,  just  in  the  midst  of  all. 

Anon  His  nose  is  pleased  with  fragrant  scents 

Of  balm,  and  basil,  myrrh  and  frankincense, 

Thyme,  spikenard,  hyssop,  savory,  cinnamon, 

Pink,  violet,  rose,  and  clove-carnation. 

Anon  His  ear's  charmed  with  the  melody 

Of  winged  concerts'  curious  harmony ; 

For  though  each  bird,  guided  with  artless  art, 

After  his  kind  observe  a  song  apart, 

Yet  the  sole  burden  of  their  several  lays 

Is  nothing  but  the  Heaven-King's  glorious  praise. 

In  brief,  th' Almighty's  eye  and  nose  and  ear, 
In  all  His  works  doth  naught  see,  smell  or  hear, 
But  shows  His  greatness,  savors  of  His  grace, 
And  sounds  His  glory  over  every  place. 
But  above  all,  man's  mary  beauteous  features 
Detain  the  Lord  more  than  all  other  creatures. 
Man's  His  own  minion.     Man's  His  sacred  type, 
And  for  man's  sake  He  loves  His  workmanship. 

Not  that  I  mean  to  feign  an  idle  God, 

3To  remain  suspended. 


THE  SEVENTH  DAY.  145 

That  lusks  in  heaven  and  never  looks  abroad; 

That  crowns  not  virtue  and  corrects  not  vice, 

Blind  to  our  service,  deaf  unto  our  sighs; 

A  pagan  idol,  void  of  power  and  piety. 

A  sleeping  dormouse  matches  such  a  deity! 

For  though,  alas,  sometimes  I  cannot  shun 

But  some  profane  thoughts  in  my  mind  will  run, 

I  never  think  on  God,  but  I  conceive, — 

Whence  cordial  comforts  Christian  souls  receive, — 

In  God,  care,  counsel,  justice,  mercy,  might, 

To  punish  wrong  and  patronize  the  right; 

Since  man,  but  image  of  th'Almightiest, 

Without  these  gifts  is  not  a  man,  but  beast. 

Fond  Epicure,4  thou  rather  slept'st,  thyself, 

When  thou  didst  forge  thee  such  a  sleep-sick  elf 

For  life's  pure  fount ;  or  vainly  fraudulent 

Not  shunning  th'atheist's  sin,  but  punishment, 

Imaginedst  a  god  so  perfectless, 

In  works  defying  whom  thy  words  profess. 

God  is  not  sitting,  like  some  earthly  state, 
In  proud  theater,  Him  to  recreate 
With  curious  objects  of  His  ears  and  eyes, 
Without  disposing  of  the  comedies, 
Content  to've  made,  by  His  great  word,  to  move 
So  many  radiant  stars  as  shine  above, 
And  on  each  thing  with  His  own  hand  to  draw 
The  sacred  text  of  an  eternal  law ; 
Then,  bosoming  His  hand,  to  let  them  slide5 


4Follower  of  Epicurus,  whose  philosophy  gave  no  credit  to  any  super- 
natural power  for  activity  in  the  affairs  of  men. 

5"Let  them  (or  it)  slide"  has  been  until  very  lately  a  common  ex- 
pression among  descendants  of  New  EJnglanders,  and  may  still  sur- 
vive, as  it  appears  in  Gail  Hamilton's  "Gala  Days",  page  6,  where  she 
says  "Then  I  should  let  the  book  slide,"  apparently  in  the  same  sense 
as  used  at  the  beginning  of  Shakespeare's  Taming  of  the  Shrew,  where 
Christopher  Sly  cries,  "Let  the  world  slide."  His  "Sessa "  in  the 
same  sentence  seems  to  be  an  exclamation  identical  with  Sylvester's 
"Sasa,"  used  as  a  war  cry  in  the  section  called  "The  Vocation"  of  the 
part,  "Abraham,"  in  the  Divine  Weeks  series.  The  "let  slide"  of  the 
text  is  not  a  translation  from  the  French,  the  original  couplet  being 
"Tenant  sa  dextre  au  sein,  abandonne  leur  bride, 
Pour  laisser  courir  ou  cete  loi  les  guide." 


146  BUILDING  THE  WORLD. 

With  reins  at  will,  whither  that  law  shall  guide; 
Like  one  that  having  lately  forced  some  lake 
Through  a  new  channel  a  new  course  to  take 
Takes  no  more  care  thenceforth  to  those  effects, 
But  lets  the  stream  run  where  his  ditch  directs. 

The  Lord,  our  God,  wants  neither  diligence 
Nor  love,  nor  care,  nor  power,  nor  providence. 
He  proved  His  power  by  making  all  of  naught; 
His  diligence  by  ruling  all  He  wrought ; 
His  care  by  ending  it  in  six  days'  space; 
His  love  by  building  it  for  Adam's  race ; 
His  providence,  maugre  time's  wasteful  rages, 
Preserving  it  so  many  years  and  ages. 
For  O  how  often  had  this  goodly  ball 
By  its  own  greatness  caused  its  proper  fall, — 
How  often  had  this  world  deceased,  except 
God's  mighty  arms  had  it  upheld  and  kept ! 

God  is  the  soul,  the  life,  the  strength,  the  sinew 
That  quickens,  moves,  and  makes  this  frame  continue. 
God's  the  mainspring  that  maketh  every  way 
All  the  small  wheels  of  this  great  engine  play. 
God's  the   strong  Atlas,  whose  unshrinking  shoulders 
Have  been  and  are  heaven's  heavy  globe's  upholders. 

God  makes  the  fountains  run  continually, 
The  days  the  nights  succeed  unceasingly; 
The  seasons  in  their  season  He  doth  bring, — 
Summer  and  autumn,  winter  and  the  spring; 
God  makes  earth  fruitful,  and  He  makes  the  earth's 
Large  loins  not  yet  faint  for  so  many  births. 
God  makes  the  sun  and  stars  (though  wondrous  hot,) 
That  yet  their  heat  themselves  inflameth  not, 
And  that  their  sparkling  beams  prevent6  not  so 
With  woful  flames  the  last  great  day  of  woe. 
And  that,  as  moved  with  a  contrary  wrest, 
They  turn  at  once  both  north  and  east  and  west. 


6The  word  "prevent"   is  here  used  in  its  earlier  and  more  literal 
meaning  of  "come  before." 


THE  SEVENTH  DAY.  147 

Heaven's  constant  course  His  heat  doth  never  break; 

The  floating  water  waiteth  at  His  beck ; 

Air's  at  His  call,  the  fire  at  His  command, 

The  earth  is  His,  and  there  is  nothing  fand 

In  all  these  kingdoms,  but  is  moved  each  hour 

With  secret  touch  of  H  is  eternal  power. 

God  is  the  judge  who  keeps  continual  sessions 
In  every  place,  to  punish  all  transgressions ; 
Who,  void  of  ignorance  and  avarice, 
Not  won  with  bribes,  nor  wrested  with  device, 
Sans  fear  or  favor,  hate  or  partial  zeal, 
Pronounceth  judgments  that  are  past  appeal. 
Himself  is  witness,  judge  and  jury  too, 
Well  knowing  what  we  all  speak,  think  or  do, 
He  sounds  the  deepest  of  the  doublest  heart, 
Searcheth  the  reins,  and  sifteth  every  part. 
He  sees  all  secrets,  and  His  lynx-like  eye, 
Ere  it  be  thought,  doth  every  thought  descry. 
His  sentence  given  never  returns  in  vain ; 
For  all  the  heaven,  earth,  air  and  sea  contain 
Serve  Him  as  sergeants,  and  the  winged  legions 
That  soar  above  the  bright,  star-spangled7  regions, 
Are  ever  pressed  for  powerful  ministers, 
And  lastly  for  His  executioners. 
Satan,  assisted  with  th'infernal  band, 
Stands  ready  still  to  finish  His  command. 

God,  to  be  brief,  is  a  good  Artisan 
That  to  His  purpose  aptly  manage  can 
Good  or  bad  tools ;  and  for  just  punishment 
He  arms  our  sins  us  sinners  to  torment ; 
And  to  prevent  th'ungodly's  plot,  sometime 
He  makes  His  foes,  will-nill  they,  fight  for  Him. 

Yet  true  it  is  that  human  things  seem  slide 
Unbridledly  with  so  uncertain  tide, 
That  in  the  ocean  of  events  so  many, 


TThis  is  the  second  instance  of  Sylvester's  use  of  "star-spangled", 
which  later  became  such  a  distinctively  American  adjective.  It  is 
not  a  literal  translation  from  the  French  in  either  instance. 


148  BUILDING  THE  WORLD. 

Sometimes  God's  judgments  are  scarce  seen  of  any. 

Rather  it  seems  that  giddy  fortune  guideth 

All  that  beneath  the  silver  moon  betideth. 

Yet  art  Thou  ever  just,  O  God,  though  I 

Cannot,  alas,  Thy  judgment's  depth  descry. 

My  wit's  too  shallow  for  the  least  design 

Of  Thy  dread  counsels,  sacred  and  divine, 

And  Thy  least  secret  secrets  I  confess 

Too  deep  for  us,  without  Thy  spirit's  address. 

Yet  oftentimes  what  seemeth  at  first  sight 

Unjust  to  us,  and  past  our  reason  quite, 

Thou  mak'st  us,  Lord,  acknowledge  in  due  season 

To  have  been  done  with  equity  and  reason. 

So,  suffering  th'Hebrew  tribes  to  sell  their  brother, 
Thy  eternal  justice  Thou  didst  seem  to  smother; 
But  Joseph,  when  through  such  rare  hap  it  chanced 
Him  from  a  slave  to  be  so  high  advanced 
To  rule  the  land  where  Nilus'  fertile  flood 
Dry  heaven's  defects  endeavors  to  make  good, 
Learned  that  his  envious  brothers'  treacherous  drift 
Him  to  the  stern8  of  Memphian  state  had  lift 
That  he  might  there  provide  relief  and  room 
For  Abraham's  seed,  against  the  time  to  come. 

When  Thy  strong  arm  that  plagues  the  reprobate 
The  world,  and  Sodom,  did  exterminate 
With  flood  and  flame, — because  there  lived  then 
Some  small  remains  of  good  and  righteous  men, 
Thou  seemed'st  unjust;  but  when  Thou  saved'st  Lot 
From  fire,  from  water  Noah  and  his  boat, 
'Twas  plainly  seen,  Thy  justice  stands  propitious 
To  th'innocent,  and  smiteth  but  the  vicious. 

He  willful  winks  against  the  shining  sun 
That  sees  not  Pharaoh  as  a  means  begun 
For  th'Hebrews'  good,  and  that  his  hardened  heart 
Smoothed  the  passage  for  their  soon  depart ; 
To  th'end  the  Lord,  when  tyrants  will  not  yield. 
Might  for  His  glory  find  the  larger  field. 


SReferring  to  a  ship  and  its  guidance. 


THE  SEVENTH  DAY.  149 

Who  sees  not  also  that  th'unjust  decree 
Of  a  proud  judge,  and  Judas'  treachery, 
The  people's  fury,  and  the  prelates'  gall 
Served  all  as  organs  to  repair  the  fall 
Of  Eden's  old  prince,  whose  luxurious  pride 
Made  on  his  seed  his  sin  forever  abide? 

Th'Almighty's  care  doth  diversely  disperse 
O'er  all  the  parts  of  all  this  universe, 
But  more  precisely,  His  wide  wings  protect 
The  race  of  Adam  chiefly — His  elect. 
For  ay  He  watcheth  for  His  children  choice, 
That  lift  to  Him  their  hearts,  their  hands  and  voice ; 
For  them  He  buildeth  th'ay-turning  heaven's  theater; 
For  them  He  made  the  fire,  air,  earth  and  water. 
He  counts  their  hairs ;  their  steps  He  measureth, 
Handles  their  hands  and  speaketh  with  their  breath, 
Dwells  in  their  hearts,  and  plants  His  regiments 
Of  watchful  angels  round  about  their  tents. 

But  here  what  hear  I?     Faithless,  godless  men, 
I  marvel  not  that  you  impugn  my  pen ; 
But  O  it  grieves  me,  and  I  am  amazed 
That  those  whose  faith,  like  glittering  stars,  hath  blazed 
Even  in  our  darkest  nights,  should  so  object 
Against  a  doctrine  of  so  sweet  effect, 
Because,  alas,  with  weeping  eyes  they  see 
Th'ungodliest  in  most  prosperity, — 
Clothed  in  purple,  crowned  with  diadems, 
Handling  bright  scepters,  hoarding  gold  and  gems, 
Crouched  to,  and  courted  with  all  kind  affection, 
As  privileged  by  the  heavens'  affection, 
So  that  their  goods,  their  honors,  their  delights, 
Excel  their  hopes, — exceed  their  appetites, — 
And  opposite,  the  godly  in  the  storms 
Of  this  world's  sea  tossed  in  continual  harms. 
On  earth  less  rest  than  Euripus9  they  find, 
God's  heavy  rods  still  hanging,  them  behind; 


9The  strait  between  Euboea  and  Boeotia,  where  the  tide  was  said 
to  ebb  and  flow  seven  times  a  day. 


150  BUILDING  THE  WORLD. 

Them  shame  and  blame,  trouble  and  loss  pursues 
As  shadows  bodies,  and  as  night  the  dews. 

Peace,  peace,  dear  friends!     I  hope  to  cancel  quite 
This  profane  thought  from  your  unsettled  sp'rit. 
Know  then  that  God,  to  the  end  He  be  not  thought 
A  powerless  judge,  here  plagueth  many  a  fault, 
And  many  a  fault  leaves  here  unpunished, 
That  men  may  also  His  last  judgment  dread. 
On  th'other  side,  note  that  the  cross  becomes 
A  ladder  leading  to  heaven's  glorious  rooms; 
A  royal  path,  the  heavenly  Milky  Way, 
Which  doth  the  saints  to  God's  high  court  convey. 

O  see  you  not  how  that  a  father  grave, 
Curbing  his  son  much  shorter  than  his  slave, 
Doth  th'one  but  rare,  the  other  rife  reprove, 
Th'one  but  for  lucre,  th'other  all  for  love? 
As  skillful  'querry  that  commands  the  stable 
Of  some  great  prince  or  person  honorable, 
Gives  of  test  to  that  horse  the  teaching  spur 
Which  he  finds  fittest  for  the  use  of  war. 
A  painful10  schoolmaster,  that  hath  in  hand 
To  institute  the  flower  of  all  the  land, 
Gives  longest  lessons  unto  those  where  Heaven 
The  ablest  wits  and  aptest  wills  hath  given; 
And  a  wise  chieftain  never  trusts  the  weight11 
Of  th'execution  of  a  brave  exploit. 
But  unto  those  whom  he  most  honoreth 
For  often  proof  of  their  firm  force  and  faith. 
Such  sends  he  first  t'assault  his  eager  foes ; 
Such  'gainst  the  cannon  on  a  breach  bestows; 
Such  he  commands  naked  to  scale  a  fort, 
And  with  small  numbers  to  regain  a  port.       .     . 


lOPainstaking. 

iiThis  word  is  spelled  "waight"  in  the  old  editions.  Judging  from 
colloquial  New  England  use  in  the  first  half  of  the  nineteenth  century, 
the  diphthong  "oi"  was  pronounced  in  King  James's  reign  among  the 
Puritans  like  our  present  long  i.  It  is  therefore,  from  the  rhyme  in 
this  couplet,  possible  that  the  "aigh"  combination  was  pronounced  in 
like  manner  by  our  ancestors. 


THE  SEVENTH  DAY.  151 

A  good  physician,  that  art's  excellence 
Can  help  with  practice  and  experience, 
Applies  discreetly  all  his  recipes 
Unto  the  nature  of  each  fell  disease, 
Curing  this  patient  with  a  bitter  potion, 
That  with  strict  diet,  th'other  with  a  lotion, 
And  sometime  cutteth  off  a  leg  or  arm, 
To  save  if  possible  the  rest  from  harm. 
Even  so  the  Lord,  according  to  th'ill  humors 
That  vex  His  saintliest  with  foul,  tainting  tumors, 
Sends  sometimes  exile,  sometimes  lingering  languor, 
Sometimes  dishonor,  sometimes  pining  hunger, 
Sometimes  long  lawsuits,  sometimes  loss  of  good, 
Sometimes  a  child's  death,  sometimes  widowhood, — 
But  ay  He  holdeth,  for  the  good  of  His, 
In  one  hand  rods,  in  th'other,  remedies. 

The  soldier,  slugging  long  at  home  in  peace, 
His  wonted  courage  quickly  doth  decrease. 
The  rust  doth  fret  the  blade  hanged  up  at  rest ; 
The  moth  doth  eat  the  garment  in  the  chest ; 
The  standing  water  spoils  with  putrefaction, 
And  virtue  hath  no  virtue  but  in  action. 

All  that  is  fairest  in  the  world  we  find 
Subject  to  travail.     So  with  storms  and  wind 
Th'air  still  is  tossed ;  the  fire  and  water  tend — 
This  still  to  mount,  that  ever  to  descend ; 
The  spirit  is  sprightless  if  it  can't  discourse ; 
Heaven's  no  more  heaven,  if  once  it  cease  its  course. 

The  valiant  knight  is  known  by  many  scars, 
But  he  that  steals  home  woundless  from  the  wars 
Is  held  a  coward,  void  of  valor's  proof, 
That  for  death's  fear  hath  fled,  or  held  aloof. 

The  Lord,  therefore,  to  give  humanity 
Rare  precedents  of  dauntless  constancy, 
And  crown  His  dear  sons  with  victorious  laurels, 
Won  from  a  thousand  foes  in  glorious  quarrels, 
Pours  down  more  evils  on  their  hapless  head 
Than  erst  Pandora's  odious  box  did  shed, 
Yet  strengthening  still  their  hearts  with  such  a  plaster, 


152  BUILDING  THE  WORLD. 

That  though  the  flesh  stoop,  still  the  spirit  is  master. 

But  wrongly  I  these  evil  call. 
Sole  vice  is  ill ;  sole  virtue  good ;  and  all 
Besides  the  same  is  selfly,  simply,  had 
And  held  indifferent;  neither  good  nor  bad. 
Let  envious  Fortune  all  her  forces  wage 
Against  a  constant  man ;  her  fullest  rage 
Can  never  change  his  godly  resolution, 
Though  heaven  itself  should  threaten  him  confusion.12 
A  constant  man  is  like  the  sea,  whose  breast 
Lies  ever  open  unto  every  guest, 
Yet  all  the  waters  that  it  drink  cannot 
Make  it  to  change  its  qualities  a  jot. 

Though  then  the  Lord's  deep  wisdom  to  this  day 
Work  in  the  world's  mysterious,  certain  sway, 
Yet  must  we  credit  that  His  hand  composed 
All  in  six  days,  and  that  He  then  reposed ; 
By  His  example  giving  us  behest 
On  the  seventh  day,  for  evermore,  to  rest. 
For  God  remembered  that  He  made  not  man 
Of  stone  or  steel,  or  brass  Corinthian, 
But  lodged  our  soul  in  a  frail,  earthen  mass, 
Thinner  than  water,  brittler  than  glass. 
He  knows  our  life  is  by  naught  sooner  spent 
Than  having  ever  mind  and  body  bent. 

A  field,  left  lay  for  some  few  years,  will  yield 
The  richer  crop,  when  it  again  is  tilled. 
A  river,  stopped  by  a  sluice  a  space, 
Runs,  after,  rougher  and  a  swifter  pace. 
A  bow,  a  while  unbent,  will  after  cast 
Its  shafts  the  farther,  and  them  fix  more  fast. 
A  soldier  that  a  season  still  hath  lain, 
Comes  with  mere  fury  to  the  field  again. 
Even  so  this  body,  when,  to  gather  breath, 
One  day  in  seven  to  rest  it  sojourneth, 
It  re-collects  its  powers,  and  with  more  cheer 


i2The  lover  of  Horace  is  here  reminded  of  the  22d  ode  of  his  first 
book. 


THE  SEVENTH  DAY.  153 

Falls  the  next  morrow  to  its  new  career. 

But  the  chief  end  this  precept  aims  at  is 
To  quench  in  us  the  coals  of  covetise 
That  while  we  rest  from  all  profaner  arts, 
God's  spirit  may  work  in  our  retired  hearts ; 
That  we,  down  treading  earthly  cogitations, 
May  raise  our  thought  to  heavenly  meditations; 
Following  good  archers'  guise,  who  shut  one  eye 
That  they  the  better  may  their  mark  espy. 

For  by  th' Almighty  this  great,  holy  day 
Was  not  ordained  to  dance  and  mask  and  play, 
To  slug  in  sloth  and  languish  in  delights, 
And  loose  the  reins  to  raging  appetites, — 
To  turn  God's  feasts  to  filthy  Lupercals, 
To  frantic  orgies  and  fond  Saturnals, 
To  dazzle  eyes  with  pride's  vain-glorious  splendor, 
To  serve  strange  gods,  or  our  ambition  tender, 
As  th'irreligion  of  loose  times  hath  since 
Changed  the  prime  church's  chaster  innocence. 

God  would  that  men  should,  in  a  certain  place, 
This  day  assemble  as  before  His  face, 
Lending  an  humble  and  attentive  ear 
To  learn  His  great  name's  dear,  dread,  loving  fear, 
He  would  that  there  the  faithful  pastor  should 
The  Scripture's  marrow  from  its  bones  unfold, 
That  we  might  touch  with  fingers,  as  it  were, 
The  sacred  secrets  that  are  hidden  there. 

For  though  the  reading  of  those  holy  lines 
In  private  houses  somewhat  move  our  minds, 
Doubtless  the  doctrine  preached  doth  deeper  pierce, 
Proves  more  effectual,  and  more  weight  it  bears. 
He  would  that  there  in  holy  psalms  we  sing 
Loud  praise  and  thanks  to  our  immortal  King 
For  all  the  liberal  bounties  He  bestow'th 
On  us  and  ours,  in  soul  and  body  both. 
He  would  that  there  we  should  confess  His  Christ, 
Our  orly  Saviour,  Prophet,  Prince  and  Priest, 
Solemnizing,  with  sober  preparation 
His  blessed  seals  of  reconciliation; 


154  BUILDING  THE  WORLD. 

And  in  His  name  beg  boldly  what  we  need, 
After  His  will,  and  be  assured  to  speed, 
Since  in  th'exchequer  of  His  clemency 
All  goods  of  fortune,  soul  and  body,  lie. 

He  would  this  Sabbath  should  a  figure  be 
Of  the  blest  Sabbath  of  eternity ; 
But  th'one,  as  legal,  heeds  but  outward  things, — 
Th'other  to  rest  both  soul  and  body  brings, 
Th'one  but  a  day  endures ;  the  other's  date 
Eternity  shall  not  exterminate. 
Shadows  the  one,  th'other  doth  truth  include ; 
This  stands  in  freedom, — that  in  servitude; 
With  cloudy  cares  th'one's  muffled  up  some  whiles; 
The  other's  face  is  full  of  pleasing  smiles. 
For  never  grief,  nor  fear  of  any  fit 
Of  the  least  care  shall  dare  come  near  to  it. 
'Tis  the  grand  jubilee, — the  feast  of  feasts, 
Sabbath  of  Sabbaths,  endless  rest  of  rests, 
Which  with  the  prophets  and  apostles  zealous, 
The  constant  martyrs  and  our  Christian  fellows, 
God's  faithful  servants  and  His  chosen  sheep, 
In  heaven  we  hope  within  short  time  to  keep. 

He  would  this  day  our  soul,  sequestered 
From  busy  thoughts  of  worldly  cares,  should  read 
In  heaven's  bowed  arches,  and  the  elements, 
His  boundless  bounty,  power  and  providence, 
That  every  part  may,  as  a  master,  teach 
Th'illiterate,  rules  past  a  vulgar  reach.13 

Come,  reader,  sit,  come  sit  thee  down  by  me; 
Think  with  my  thoughts,  and  see  what  I  do  see. 
Hear  this  dumb  doctor;  study  in  this  book, 
Where  day  and  night  thou  may'st  at  pleasure  look; 
And  thereby  learn  uprightly  how  to  live ; 
For  every  part  doth  special  lessons  give, 


i3One  who  reads  this  passage,  (remembering  that  the  whole  poem 
was  more  widely  read  and  more  generally  accepted  in  the  England  of 
the  early  17th  century  as  an  orthodox  religious  guide  than  any  other 
work  whatever,)  may  easily  see  how  the  New  England  "Sabbath" 
came  to  be  what  it  was  two  centuries  ago. 


THE  SEVENTH  DAY.  155 

Even  from  the  gilt  studs14  of  the  firmament 
To  the  base  center  of  our  element. 

Seest  thou  those  stars  we  wrongly  "wandering"  call? 
Through  divers  ways  they  dance  about  this  ball, 
Yet  evermore  their  manifold  career 
Follows  the  course  of  the  first-moving  sphere. 
This  teacheth  thee  that,  though  thine  own  desires 
Be  opposite  to  what  Heaven's  will  requires, 
Thou  must  still  strive  to  follow,  all  thy  days, 
God,  the  first  Mover,  in  His  holy  ways. 

Vain  puff  of  wind,  whom  vaunting  pride  bewitches 
For  body's  beauty~or  mind's  richer  riches ; 
The  moon,  whose  splendor  from  her  brother  springs, 
May  by  example  make  thee  veil  thy  wings; 
For  thou,  no  less  than  the  pale  Queen  of  Night15 
Borrow'st  all  thy  goodness  from  the  Prince  of  Light. 
Wilt  thou  from  orb  to  orb,  to  earth  descend? 
Behold  the  fire  which  God  did  round  extend ; 
As,  near  to  heaven,  the  same  is  clear  and  pure, 
Ours  here  below,  sad,  smoky  and  obscure, 
So  while  thy  soul  doth  with  the  heavens  converse, 
It's  sure  and  safe  from  every  thought  perverse ; 
And  though  thou  won16  here  in  this  world  of  sin, 
Thou  art  as  happy  as  heaven's  angels  bin. 
But  if  thy  mind  be  always  fixed,  all, 
On  the  foul  dunghill  of  this  darksome  vale, 
It  will  partake  in  the  contagious  smells 
Of  th'unclean  house  wherein  it  droops  and  dwells. 


i4Near  the  beginning  of  the  Fifth  Day  the  stars  are  spoken  of  as 
"glistering  studs".  In  Comus,  V.  734,  Milton  speaks  of  what  would 
happen  if  all  the  world  should  suddenly  become  temperate  in  eating, 
drinking  and  clothing;  how  surfeits  would  prevail,  "and  the  unsought 
diamonds  Would  so  emblaze  the  foreheads  of  the  deep,  And  so  bestud 
with  stars,  that  they  below  Would  .  .  .  come  at  last  To  gaze  upon 
the  sun  with  unshamed  brows." 

iSThe  title  "Queen  of  Night"  is  used  by  Sylvester  both  here  and  in 
the  Fourth  Day  without  the  authority  of  Du  Bartas. 

i6From  the  Anglo  Saxon  "wunian",  to  dwell;  cognate  with  the 
German  "wohnen",  and  still  surviving  in  Scotch  dialect.  The  agricul- 
tural phrase  "to  get  wonted",  is  the  most  conspicuous  derivative  from 
it  in  general  use. 


156  BUILDING  THE  WORLD. 

If  envious  Fortune  be  thy  bitter  foe, 
And  day  and  night  do  toss  thee  to  and  fro,17 
Remember,  th'air  corrupteth  soon,  except 
With  sundry  winds  it  be  oft  swindled18  and  swept. 

The  sea, — which  sometimes  down  to  hell  is  driven 
And  sometimes  heaves  a  frothy  mount  to  heaven, 
Yet  never  breaks  the  bounds  of  her  precinct 
Wherein  the  Lord  her  boisterous  arms  hath  linked, — 
Instructeth  thee  that  neither  tyrant's  rage, 
Ambition's  winds,  nor  golden  vassalage 
Of  avarice,  nor  any  love,  nor  fear 
From  God's  command  should  make  thee  shrink  a  hair. 

The  earth, — which  never  all  at  once  doth  move, 
Though  her  rich  orb  received  from  above 
No  firmer  base,  her  burden  to  sustent, 
Than  slippery  props  of  softest  element, — 
By  her  example  doth  propose  to  thee 
A  needful  lesson  of  true  constancy. 
Nay,  there  is  naught  in  our  dear  mother  found 
But  pithily  some  virtue  doth  propound. 
O  let  the  noble,  wise,  rich,  valiant, 
Be  as  the  base,  poor,  faint  and  ignorant ; 
And  looking  on  the  fields  when  Autumn  shears, 
There  let  them  learn,  among  the  bearded  ears, 
Which  still  the  fuller  of  the  flowery  grain, 
Bow  down  the  more  their  humble  heads  again, 
And  ay  the  lighter  and  the  less  their  store, 
They  lift  aloft  their  chaffy  crests  the  more.      .     .     . 

Thou,  thou  that  prancest  after  honor's  prize, 
While  by  the  way  thy  strength  and  stomach  dies, 
Remember  honor  is  like  cinnamon, 
Which  nature  mounds  with  many  a  million 
Of  thorny  pricks,  that  none  may  dangerless 
Approach  the  plant ;  much  less  the  fruit  possess. 


l7"To  and  fro"  is  familiar  enough  now,  but  it  is  noticeably  absent 
from  Shakespeare's  works,  except  in  the  doubtful  passages  of  King 
Henry  VI. 

issee  note  on  "Swindge"  in  Day  6,  ante. 


THE  SEVENTH  DAY.  157 

Canst  thou  the  secret  sympathy  behold 
Betwixt  the  bright  sun  and  the  marigold,19 
And  not  consider  that  we  must  no  less 
Follow  in  life  the  sun  of  righteousness? 

O  earth,  the  treasures  of  thy  hollow  breast 
Are  no'  less  fruitful  teachers  than  the  rest ; 
For,  as  the  lime  doth  burn  and  break  in  water, 
And  swell  and  smoke,  crackle  and  skip  and  scatter, 
Waking  that  fire  whose  dull  heat  sleeping  was 
Under  the  cold  crust  of  a  chalky  mass ; 
He  that,  to  march  amid  the  Christian  host, 
Yields  his  heart's  kingdom  to  the  Holy  Ghost, 
And  for  brave  service  under  Christ  his  banner 
Looks  to  be  crowned  with  his  Chief  Champion's  honor, 
Must  in  affliction  wake  his  zeal,  which  oft 
In  calmer  times  sleeps  too  securely  soft. 

And  opposite,  as  the  rich  diamond 
The  fire  and  steel  both  stoutly  doth  withstand, 
So  the  true  Christian  should,  till  life  expire, 
Contemn  proud  tyrants'  raging  sword  and  fire. 
Or  if  fell  rigor  with  some  ruthless  smart 
A  little  shake  the  sinews  of  his  heart, 
He  must  be  like  the  richest  mineral, 
Whose  ingots  bend  but  never  break  at  all, 
Nor  in  thy  furnace  suffer  any  loss 
Of  weight  but  lees, — not  of  the  gold,  but  dross. 

The  precious  stone  that  bears  the  rainbow's  name20 
Receives  the  bright  face  of  Sol's  burnished  flame, 
And  by  reflection,  after,  it  displays 
On  the  next  object  all  those  pointed  rays; 
So  whoso  hath  from  the  empyreal  pole, 
Within  the  center  of  his  happy  soul 
Received  from  splendor  of  the  beams  divine, 
Must  to  his  neighbor  make  the  same  to  shine; 


i9"Le  blond  soleil  et  le  blonde  Clytie,"  in  the  original.  The  Brit- 
ish corn-marigold  may  be  more  disposed  to  keep  its  face  toward  the 
sun  than  the  flower  known  as  the  marigold  in  America. 

20The  old  marginal  note  says  here  "The  stone,  Iris." 


158  BUILDING  THE  WORLD. 

Not  burying  talents  which  our  God  hath  given 
To  be  employed  in  a  rich  trade  for  Heaven, 
That,  in  his  church,  he  may  receive  his  gold 
With  thirty,  sixty  and  an  hundred  fold. 

As  iron,  touched  by  th'adamant's  effect, 
To  the  north  pole  doth  ever  point  direct, 
So  the  soul,  touched  by  the  secret  power 
Of  a  true,  lively  faith,  looks  every  hour 
To  the  bright  lamp  which  serves  for  cynosure21 
To  all  that  sail  upon  the  sea  obscure. 

These  precedents,  from  lifeless  things  collected, 
Breed  good  effects  in  spirits  well  affected ; 
But  lessons  taken  fresh  from  things  that  live, 
A  livelier  touch  unto  all  sorts  do  give. 

Up,  up,  ye  princes !    Prince  and  people  rise, 
And  run  to  school  among  the  honey-flies. 
There  shall  you  learn  that  an  eternal  law 
Subjects  the  subject  under  princes'  awe. 
There  shall  you  learn  that  a  courageous  king 
To  vex  his  humble  vassals  hath  no  sting. 

The  Persian  prince  that  princely  did  conclude 
So  severe  laws  against  ingratitude, 
Knew  that  the  merlin,  having  kept  her  warm 
With  a  live  lark,  remits  it  without  harm, 
And  lest  her  friend-bird  she  should  after  slay, 
She  takes  her  flight  a  quite  contrary  way. 

Fathers,  if  you  desire  your  children  sage22 
Should  by  their  blessings  bless  your  crooked  age, 
Train  them  betimes  unto  true  virtue's  lore 
By  awe,  example,  and  instruction  more. 
So  the  old  eagle  flutters  in  and  out 
,  To  teach  his  young  to  follow  him  about. 
If  his  example  cannot  timely  bring 
His  backward  birds  to  use  their  feeble  wing, 


2lThe  word,  "cynosure",  does  not  occur  in  Shakespeare's  dramas 
or  poems.  Milton  uses  it  in  Comus  and  in  L' Allegro. 

22The  French  "sage"  is  taken  over  here  instead  of  being  translated. 
It  signifies,  of  good  disposition,  rather  than  wise. 


THE  SEVENTH  DAY.  159 

He  leaves  them  there  some  days  unfed,  whereby 
Sharp  hunger  may  at  length  constrain  them  fly. 
If  that  prevail  not  then  he  beats  them,  both 
With  beak  and  wings,  to  stir  their  fearful  sloth. 

You  that  to  haste  your  hated  spouse's  end 
Black,  deadly  poison  in  his  dish  do  blend, 
O  can  ye  see  with  unrelenting  eyes 
The  turtle-dove?     Since,  when  her  husband  dies, 
Dies  all  her  joy ;  for  never  loves  she  more 
But  on  dry  boughs  doth  her  dead  spouse  deplore. 

Thou,  whom  the  freedom  of  a  foolish  tongue 
Brings  oft  in  danger  from  thy  neighbor's  wrong, 
Directly  set  a  hatch  before  thy  door, 
As  the  wise  wild  geese,  when  they  over-soar 
Sicilian  mounts,  within  their  bills  do  bear 
A  pebble  stone  both  day  and  night,  for  fear 
Lest  ravenous  eagles  of  the  north  descry 
Their  army's  pillage  by  their  cackling  cry. 

O  why  embrace  not  we  with  charity 
The  living,  and  the  dead  with  piety? 
Giving  these  succor,  sepulture  to  those, 
Even  as  the  dolphins  do  themselves  expose 
For  their  live  fellows,  and  beneath  the  waves 
Cover  their  dead  ones  under  sandy  graves. 

You  children  whom,  beyond  hope,  Heaven's  benignity 
Hath  heaped  with  wealth,  and  lifted  up  to  dignity, 
Do  not  forget  your  parents,  but  behold 
The  careful  kids,  who,  when  their  parents  old 
With  heavy  gyves  eld's  trembling  fever  stops 
And  fetters  fast  upon  the  mountain  tops, 
As  good  purveyors,  bring  them  home  to  browse 
The  tenderest  tops  of  all  the  tenderest  boughs, 
And  sip — self  thirstless — of  the  river's  brink 
Which  in  their  mouths  they  bring  them  home  to  drink. 

For  household  rules,  read  not  the  learned  writs 
Of  the  Stagyrian, — glory  of  good  wits, — 
Nor  his  whom,  for  his  honey-steeped  style 
They  proverbized  "the  Attic  Muse"  erewhile, 
Since  the  single  spider  teacheth  every  one 


160  BUILDING  THE  WORLD. 

The  husband's  and  the  housewife's  function ; 

For,  for  their  food,  the  valiant  male  doth  roam ; 

The  cunning  female  tends  her  work  at  home. 

Out  of  her  bowels  wool  and  yarn  she  spitteth 

And  all  that  else  her  learned  labors  fitteth ; 

Her  weight's  the  spindle  that  doth  twist  the  twine, 

Which  her  small  fingers  draw  so  even  and  fine ; 

Still  at  the  center  she  her  warp  begins, 

Then  round  at  length  her  little  thread  she  spins 

At  equal  distance  to  their  compass  leaves ; 

Then  neat  and  nimbly  her  new  web  she  weaves, 

With  her  fine  shuttle  circularly  drawn 

Through  all  the  circuit  of  her  open  lawn ; 

Open,  lest  else  the  ungentle  winds  should  tear 

Her  cypress  tent,  weaker  than  any  hair, 

And  that  the  foolish  fly  might  easier  get 

Within  the  meshes  of  her  curious  net ; 

Which  he  no  sooner  doth  begin  to  shake 

But  straight  the  male  doth  to  the  center  make 

That  he  may  conquer  more  securely  there 

The  humming  creature,  hampered  in  his  snare. 

You  kings  that  bear  the  sword  of  just  hostility, 
Pursue  the  proud  and  pardon  true  humility, 
Like  noble  lions  that  do  never  show 
Their  strength  and  stomach  on  a  yielding  foe, 
But  rather  through  the  stoutest  things  do  forage, 
'Mid  thousand  deaths ,  to  show  their  dauntless  courage. 

Thou  sluggard,  if  thou  list  to  learn  thy  part, 
Go,  learn  the  emmet's  and  the  urchin's  art. 
In  summer  one,  in  autumn  th'other  takes 
The  season's  fruits,  and  thence  provision  makes, 
Each  in  his  lodginig  laying  up  a  hoard 
Against  cold  winter  which  doth  naught  afford. 

But,  reader,  we  resemble  one  that  winds 
From  Saba,  Bandan,  and  the  wealthy  Inds 
Through  threatening  seas  and  dangers  manifold. 
To  seek  far  off  for  incense,  spice  and  gold ; 
Since  we,  not  loosing  from  our  proper  strand, 
Find  all  wherein  a  happy  life  doth  stand, 


THE  SEVENTH  DAY.  161 

And  our  own  bodies'  self-contained  motions 
Give  the  most  gross  a  hundred  goodly  notions. 

You  pastors,  princes,  and  ye  chiefs  of  war, 
Do  not  your  sermons,  laws  and  orders  mar, 
Lest  your  examples'  baneful  leprosies 
Infect  your  flocks,  subjects  and  companies. 
Beware  your  evil  make  not  others  so 
Since  no  part's  sound  if  ill  the  head  doth  grow. 

Do  not,  you  peers,  thorow  self-partial  zeal, 
With  light-brained  counsels  vex  your  commonweal, 
But,  as  both  eyes  do  but  one  thing  behold, 
Let  each  his  country's  common  good  uphold. 

You  that  for  others  travail  day  and  night, 
With  much  hard  labor  and  small  benefit, 
Behold  the  teeth,  which  toll-free  grind  the  food, 
From  whence  themselves  do  reap  more  grief  than  good. 

Even  as  the  heart  hath  not  a  moment's  rest, 
But  night  and  day  moves  in  our  panting  breast, 
That  by  its  beating  it  may  still  impart 
Its  lively  spirits  about  to  every  part ; 
So  those  to<  whom  God  doth  His  flock  betake 
Ought  always  study,  always  work  and  wake, 
To  breathe,  by  doctrine  and  good  conversation, 
The  quick'ning  spirit  in  their  congregation. 

And  as  the  stomach,  from  the  wholesome  food 
Divides  the  grosser  part,  not  being  good, 
They  ought  from  false  the  true  to  separate, — 
Error  from  faith,  and  cockle  from  the  wheat, 
To  have  the  best  received  for  nourishment, 
The  bad  cast  forth  as  filthy  excrement. 

If  bat  or  blade  do  threaten  sudden  harm 
To  belly,  breast  or  leg  or  head  or  arm, 
With  dreadless  power  the  hand  doth  ward  the  blow 
Taking  itself  its  brethren's  bleeding  woe; 
Then  mid  the  shock  of  sacrilegious  arms, 
That  fill  the  world  with  blood  and  boisterous  storms, 
Shall  we  not  lend  our  helping  hands  to  others 
Whom    faith    hath    made    more    near    and    dear    than 
brothers? 


162  BUILDING  THE  WORLD. 

Nor  can  I  see  where,  underneath  the  sky, 
A  man  may  find  a  juster  policy 
Or  truer  image  of  a  calm  estate 
Exempt  from  faction,  discord  and  debate, 
Than  in  th'harmonious  order  that  maintains 
Our  body's  life,  through  members'  mutual  pains; 
Where  one  no  sooner  feels  the  least  offense 
But  all  the  rest  have  of  the  same  a  sense. 
The  foot  strives  not  to  smell,  the  nose  to  walk, 
The  tongue  to  combat,  nor  the  hand  to  talk ; 
But  without  troubling  of  their  commonweal 
With  mutinies,  they  voluntary  deal, 
Each  in  his  office  and  heaven-appointed  place, 
Be't  vile  or  honorable,  lofty  or  base. 

But  stay, -my  muse!     What,  wilt  thou  still  repeat 
The  map  of  man  which  thou  hast  drawn  so  late?23 
If  twice  or  thrice  one  and  the  same  we  bring 
'Tis  tedious,  however  sweet  we  sing. 
Therefore,  Ashore !  Mates,  let  our  anchor  fall ! 
Here  blows  no  wind!     Here  are  we  welcome  all. 
Besides,  consider  and  conceive,  I  pray, 
We've  rowed  sufficient, — for  a  Sabbath  day. 


23This  couplet  is  re-written  by  the  present  editor,  though  without 
change  of  meaning.  As  it  appears  in  former  editions  it  is  obscure 
as  well  as  of  awkward  construction. 


PART  II.-THE  STORY  OF  ADAM 


EDEN 


Great  God,  which  hast  this  world's  birth  made  me  see, 

Unfold  his1  cradle ;  show  his  infancy. 

Walk  Thou  my  spirit  through  all  the  flowering-  alleys 

Of  that  sweet  garden  where,  through  winding  valleys, 

Four  lively  floods  crawled.     Tell  me  what  misdeed 

Banished  both  Edens  Adam  and  his  seed. 

Tell  who*,  immortal,  mortalizing,  brought  us 

The  balm  from  heaven  which   hope  and   health   hath 

wrought  us. 

Grant  me  the  story  of  Thy  church  to  sing 
And  gests2  of  kings,  let  me  this  total  bring 
From  Thy  first  Sabbath  to  its  fatal  tomb; 
My  style  extending  to  the  day  of  doom. 

Lord,  I  acknowledge  and  confess  before, — 
This  ocean  hath  no  bottom  nor  no  shore ; 


iThe  form,  "it's"  occurs  several  times  in  the  course  of  Sylvester's 
versified  writings.  In  transcribing  I  have  eliminated  the  apostrophe, 
and  have  also  w-itten  "its"  in  a  number  of  instances  where  the 
original  has  "his".  In  the  case  of  the  above  lines  it  has  seemed  that 
the  personification  of  the  world  by  allusions  to  its  birth,  etc.,  makes 
the  use  of  the  old  possessive  preferable. 

2"Gests";  deeds.  There  is  something  in  the  rhythm  of  this  couplet 
which  recalls  the  demand  of  Richard  II  to  his  followers  to  "sit  on  the 
ground  and  tell  sad  stories  of  the  death  of  kings." 


164  THE  STORY  OF  ADAM. 

But  sacred  Pilot,  Thou  canst  safely  steer 
My  venturous  pinnace  to  her  wished  pier, 
Where  once  arrived,  all  dropping  wet,  I  will 
Extol  thy  favors  and  my  vows  fulfill. 

And  gracious  Guide,3  which  dost  all  grace  infuse, 
Since  it  hath  pleased  Thee  task  my  hardy  muse 
With  these  high  themes,  that  through  mine  artless  pen 
This  holy  lamp  may  light  my  countrymen, 
Ah !  teach  my  hand ;  touch  mine  unlearned  lips ; 
Lest,  as  the  earth's  gross  body  doth  eclipse 
Bright  Cynthia's  beams  when  it  is  interposed 
'Twixt  her  and  Phoebus,  so  mine  ill-disposed, 
Dark,  gloomy  ignorance  obscure  the  rays 
Of  this  divine  sun  of  these  learned  days. 
O  furnish  me  with  an  unvulgar  style, 
That  I  by  this  may  wean  our  wanton  isle 
From  Ovid's  heirs4  and  their  unhallowed  spell, 
Here  charming  senses,  chaining  souls  in  hell. 
Let  this  provoke  our  modern  wits  to  sacre 
Their  wondrous  gifts  to  honor  Thee,  their  Maker, 
That  our  mysterious  elfin  oracle,5 
Deep,  moral,  grave,  invention's  miracle, — 
My  dear,  sweet  Daniel,  sharp,  conceited,  brief, 
Civil,  sententious,  for  pure  accents  chief, — 
And,  our  new  Naso6  that  so  passionates 
Th'  heroic  sighs  of  love-sick  potentates 


3The  interpolations  of  the  translator  were  formerly  printed  in  italics. 
This  one,  extending  to  "mine  elder  story",  will  be  found  of  interest  as 
providing  a  view  of  English  literature  at  the  close  of  the  16th  century. 

4Ovid's  heirs  were  probably  represented  by  the  earlier  poems  of 
Shakespeare,  then  very  popular,  and  by  productions  of  lesser  writers 
in  a  similar  vein. 

5The  "Elfin  Oracle"  was  Edmund  Spenser,  whose  Faerie  Queene  was 
published  by  the  printer  of  the  Divine  Weeks.  Samuel  Daniel,  men- 
tioned in  the  same  sentence,  was  a  voluminous  versifier,  some  of 
whose  works  are  still  read. 

6Michael  Drayton  is  now  best  known  by  his  "Poly-Olbion",  a  versi- 
fied encyclopedic  gazetteer  of  England.  At  the  beginning  of  the  17th 
century,  however,  his  fame  rested  principally  upon  a  volume  issued 
by  him  in  1593  containing  imitations  of  Ovid's  narrative  and  descrip- 
tive works. 


EDEN.  165 

May  change  their  subject,  and  advance  their  wings 
Up  to  these  higher  and  more  holy  things ; 
And  if,  sufficient  rich  in  self-invention, 
They  scorn  to  live,  as  I,  of  stranger's  pension,7 
Let  them  devise  new  weeks,  new  works,  new  ways 
To  celebrate  the  supreme  Prince  of  praise. 
And  let  not  me,  good  Lord,  be  like  the  lead 
Which  to  some  city  from  some  conduit-head 
Brings  wholesome  water,  yet  self-wanting  sense, 
Itself  receives  no  drop  of  comfort  thence ; 
But  rather  as  the  thorough  seasoned  butt, 
Wherein  the  tears  of  death-pressed  grapes  are  put, 
Retains,  long  after  all  the  wine  is  spent, 
Within  itself  the  liquor's  lively  scent, 
Let  me  still  savor  of  these  sacred  sweets8 
Till  death  fold  up  mine  earth  in  earthen  sheets; 
Lest  my  young  lays,  now  prone  to  teach  Thy  glory 
To  Brutus'  heirs,9  blush  at  mine  elder  story. 

God,  supreme  Lord,  committed  not  alone 
T'our  father  Adam  this  inferior  throne 
Ranging  beneath  his  rule  the  scaly  nation 
That  in  the  ocean  have  their  habitation, 
Those  that  in  horror  of  the  deserts  lurk 
And  those  that,  capering  in  the  welkin,  work, 
But  also  chose  him  for  a  happy  seat 
A  climate  temperate  both  for  cold  and  heat, 
Which  dainty  Flora  paveth  sumptuously 
With  flowery  Ver's  enameled  tapestry, 
Pomona  pranks10  with  fruits  whose  taste  excels, 
And  Zephyr  fills  with  musk  and  amber  smells; 
Where  God  himself  as  gardener  treads  the  alleys, 


7The  translator  here  speaks  of  himself  as  living  on  the  liberality 
of  the  French  author,  the  "pension"  consisting  of  the  material  first 
put  into  shape  by  Du  Bartas,  and  later  taken  into  a  constructive  pos- 
session by  Sylvester  for  his  own  profit. 

sin  Thomas  Moore's  song  the  cask  of  wine  becomes  a  vase  of  roses, 
but  the  figure  of  speech  is  essentially  the  same  as  that  above. 

SBrutus  was  the  fabled  founder  of  the  British  nation  as  it  existed 
before  the  coming  of  the  Saxons. 

lOSee  note  17,  Day  2,  ante. 


166  THE  STORY  OF  ADAM. 

With  trees  and  corn  covers  the  hills  and  valleys, 
Summons  sweet  sleep  with  noise  of  hundred  brooks, 
And  sun-proof  arbors  makes  in  sundry  nooks. 
He  plants,  He  prunes,  He  pares,  He  trimmeth  round 
Th'evergreen  beauties  of  a  fruitful  ground. 
Here,  there,  the  course  of  th'holy  lakes  He  leads; 
With  thousand  dyes  he  mottles  all  the  meads.11 

Ye  pagan  poets  that  audaciously 
Have  sought  to  dark  the  ever-memory 
Of  God's  great  works,  from  henceforth  still  be  dumb 
Your  fabled  praises  of  Elysium, 
Which  by  this  goodly  model  yo>u  have  wrought 
Through  deaf  tradition  that  your  fathers  taught ; 
For  the  Almighty  made  His  blissful  bowers 
Better  indeed  than  you  have  feigned  yours. 

For  should  I  say  that  still  with  smiling  face 
Th'all-clasping  heavens  beheld  this  happy  place, 
That  honey  sweet  from  hollow  rocks  did  drain, 
That  fostering  milk  flowed  up  and  down  the  plain, 
That  sweet  as  roses  smelt  th'ill-favored  rue, 
That  in  all  soils,  all  seasons,  all  things  grew, 
That  still  there  dangled  on  the  selfsame  treen 
A  thousand  fruits  nor  over  ripe  nor  green, 
That  eagrest12  fruits  and  bitterest  herbs  did  mock 
Madeira  sugars  and  the  apricock, 
Yielding  more  wholesome  food  than  all  the  messes 
That  now  taste-curious,  wanton  plenty  dresses,13 
Disguising  in  a  thousand  costly  dishes 
The  various  stores  of  dainty  fowls  and  fishes 
Which  far  and  near  we  seek  by  land  and  seas 
More  hunger  to  provoke  than  to  appease. 
Or  should  I  say  each  morning  on  the  ground 
Not  common  dew  but  manna  did  abound, 


UMilton's  "meadows  trim  with  daisies  pied"  in  L'Allegro,  may  easily 
have  been  suggested  by  this  line. 

i2"Eagrest"  signifies  sharpest,  the  meaning  being  similar  in  Hamlet's 
allusion  to  "a  nipping  and  an  eager  air." 

iscompare  Milton's  "messes  Which  the  neat-handed  Phyllis  dresses," 
in  L'Allegro. 


EDEN.  167 

That  never  gutter-gorging,  dirty  muds 
Defiled  the  crystal  of  smooth-sliding14  floods, 
Whose  waters  passed  in  pleasant  taste  the  drink 
That  now  in  Candia  decks  Cerathus'  brink, 
That  shady  groves  of  noble  palmtree  sprays, 
Of  amorous  myrtles  and  immortal  bays 
Never  unleaved,15  but  evermore  their  new, 
Self-arching  arms  in  thousand  arbors  grew 
Where  thousand  sorts  of  birds  both  night  and  day 
Did  bill  and  woo,  and  hop  about  and  play, 
And  marrying  their  sweet  tunes  to  th'angels'  lays 
Sung  Adam's  bliss  and  their  great  Maker's  praise. 
For  then  the  crows',  night  ravens',  and  owlets'  noise 
Was  like  the  nightingale's  sweet-tuned  voice, 
And  nightingales  sung  like  divine  Arion, 
Like  Thracian,  Orpheus,  Linus  and  Amphion. 

Th'air's  daughter,  Echo',  haunting,  woods  among, 
A  blab  that  will  not,  cannot  keep  her  tongue; 
Who  never  asks  but  only  answers  all  ; 
Who'  lets  not  any  her  in  vain  to  call ; 
She  bore  her  part  and  full  of  curious  skill 
They  ceasing  sung;  they  singing  ceased  still.16 
There  music  reigned  and  ever  on  the  plain 
A  sweet  sound  raised  the  dead-live  voice  again. 

If  there  I  say  the  sun,  the  seasons'  stinter. 
Made  no  hot  summer  nor  no  hoary  winter, 
But  lovely  Ver  kept  still  in  lively  luster 
The  fragrant  valleys,  smiling  meads  and  pasture, 
That  boisterous  Adam's  body  did  not  shrink 
For  northern  winds,  nor  for  the  southern  wink ; 
But  Zephyr  did  sweet,  musky  sighs  afford, 
Which,  breathing  through  the  garden  of  the  Lord, 
Gave  bodies  vigor,  verdure  to  the  field, 
That  verdure  flowers,  those  flowers  sweet  savor  yield ; 
The  day  did  gladly  lend  his  sister  night, 


W'Smooth  sliding  Mincius," — Lycidas. 

i5"Myrtles  brown,  with  ivy  never  sere." — Lycidas. 

l6See  note  10,  Day  5,  ante. 


168  THE  STORY  OF  ADAM. 

For  half  her  moisture,  half  his  shining  light. 

That  never  hail  did  harvest  prejudice, 

That  never  frost  nor  snow  nor  slippery  ice 

The  fields  en-aged,  nor  any  stormy  stooir 

Dismounted  mountains,  nor  no  violent  shower 

Poverished  the  land  which  frankly  did  produce 

All  fruitful  vapors  for  delight  and  use. 

I  think  I  lie  not ;  rather  I  confess 

My  stammering  muse's  poor  unlearnedness. 

If  in  two  words  thou  wilt  her  praise  comprise, 

Say  'twas  the  type  of  th'upper  paradise, 

Where  Adam  had,  O  wondrous  strange,  discourse 

With  God  himself,  with  angels  intercourse. 

Yet,  over-curious,  question  not  the  site 
Where  God  did  plant  his  garden  of  delight ; 
Whether  beneath  the  Equinoctial  line, 
Or  on  a  mountain  near  Latona's  shine; 
Nigh  Babylon,  or  in  the  radiant  East ; 
Humbly  content  thee  that  thou  know'st  at  least 
That  that  rare,  plenteous,  pleasant,  happy  thing, 
Whereof  th'Almighty  made  our  grandslre  king, 
Was  a  choice  soil  through  which  did,  rolling,  slide 
Swift  Gihon,  Pison  and  rich  Tigris'  tide, 
And  that  fair  stream  whose  silver  waves  do  kiss 
The  monarch  towers  of  proud  Semiramis. 

Now  if  that,  roaming  round  above  the  earth, 
Thou  find  no  place  that  answers  now  in  worth 
This  beauteous  place,  nor  country  that  can  show 
Where  now-a-days  those  noted  floods  do  flow, 
Include  not  all  within  this  close,17  confined, 
That  laboring  Neptune's  liquid  belt  doth  bind ; 
A  certain  place  it  was>  now  sought  in  vain, 
Where  set  by  grace,  for  sin  removed  again 
Our  elders  were;  whereof  the  Thunder-Darter 
Made  a  bright  sword  the  gate,  an  angel  porter. 

Nor  think  that  Moses  paints  fantastic-wise 


17A  noun;  enclosure. 


EDEN.  169 

A  mystic  tale  of  feigned  paradise. 

('Twas  a  true  garden,  happy  plenty's  horn, 

And  seat  of  graces ;)  lest  thou  make,  forlorn, 

An  ideal  Adam's  food  fantastical, 

His  sin  supposed,  his  pain  poetical, 

Such  allegories  serve  for  shelter  fit 

To  curious  idiots  of  erroneous  wit ; 

And  chiefly  then  when  reading  histories, 

Seeking  the  spirit  they  the  body  lese. 

But  if  thou  list  to  guess  by  likelihood, 
Think  that  the  wreakful,  nature-drowning  flood 
Spared  not  this  beauteous  place  which  foremost  saw 
The  first  foul  breach  of  God's  eternal  law. 
Think  that  the  most  part  of  the  plants  it  pulled, 
And  of  the  sweetest  flowers  the  spirits  dulled, 
Spoiled  the  fair  gardens,  made  the  fat  fields  lean, 
And  changed  perchance  the  rivers'  channel  clean; 
And  think  that  time,  whose  slippery  wheel  doth  play 
In  human  causes  with  inconstant  sway, 
Who  exiles,  alters,  and  disguises  words, 
Hath  now  transformed  the  names  of  all  these  fords; 
For  as  through  sin  we  lost  that  place,  I  fear 
Forgetful  we  have  lost  the  knowledge  where 
'Twas  situate,  and  of  the  sugared  dainties 
Wherewith  God  fed  us  in  those  sacred  plenties. 

Now  of  the  trees  wherewith  th'immortal  Power 
Adorned  the  quarters  of  that  blissful  bower; 
All  served  the  mouth,  save  two  sustained  the  mind ; 
All  served  for  food,  save  two  for  seals  assigned. 

God  gave  the  first  for  honorable  style, 
"The  tree  of  life", — true  name,  alas  the  while! — 
Not  for  th'effect  it  had,  but  should  have  kept, 
If  man  from  duty  never  had  misstept ; 
For  as  the  air  of  those  fresh  dales  and  hills 
Preserved  him  from  epidemic  ills, 
This  fruit  had  ever  calmed  all  insurrections, 
All  civil  quarrels  of  the  cross  complexions; 
Had  barred  the  passage  of  twice  childish  age, 
And  evermore  excluded  all  the  rage 


170  THE  STORY  OF  ADAM. 

Of  painful  griefs,  whose  swift-slow,  posting-pace 
At  first  or  last  our  dying  life  doth  chase. 

Strong  counterbanie,  O  sacred  plant  divine! 
What  metal,  stone,  stalk,  fruit,  flower,  root  or  rine,18 
Shall  I  presume  in  these  rude  rhymes  to  suit 
Unto  thy  wondrous  world-adorning  fruit? 
The  rarest  simples  that  our  fields  present  us 
Heal  but  one  hurt,  and  healing,  too,  torment  us, 
And  with  the  torment  lingering  our  relief, 
Our  bags  of  gold  void,  ere  our  bulks  of  grief. 
But  thy  rare  fruit's  hid  power,  admired  most, 
Salvetn  all  sores  sans  pain,  delay,  or  cost ; ; 
Or  rather  man  from  yawning  death  to  stay, 
Thou  didst  not  cure  but  keep  all  ills  away. 

O  holy,  peerless,  rich  preservative! 
Whether  wert  thou  the  strange  restorative 
That  suddenly  did  age  with  youth  repair, 
And  made  old  Aeso-n19  younger  than  his  heir, 
Or  holy  nectar  that  in  heavenly  bowers 
Eternally  self-pouring  Hebe  pours, 
Or  blest  amibrosia,  gods'  immortal  fare ; 
Or  else  the  rich  fruit  of  the  garden  rare 
Where  for  three  ladies,  as  assured  guard 
A  fire-armed  dragon  day  and  night  did  ward ; 
Or  precious  Moly20  which  Jove's  pursuivan, 
Wing-footed  Hermes,  brought  to  th'Ithacan; 
Or  else  Nepenthe,  enemy  to  sadness, 
Repelling  sorrows  and  repealing  gladness? 
Or  mummie,  or  elixir  that  excels 
Save  men  and  angels  every  creature  else? 
No,  none  of  these;  these  are  but  forgeries, 
But  toys,  but  tales,  but  dreams,  deceits,  and  lies. 
But  thou  art  true,  although  our  shallow  sense 
May  honor  more  than  sound  thine  excellence. 


l8"Rine"   is  an  old   spelling  of   "rind",   and  correctly  indicates  the 
pronunciation  of  the  word  by  a  majority  of  descendants  of  the  Pilgrims. 
i9See  note  13,  Day  2,  ante. 
20"That  Moly  that  Hermes  once   to  wise   Ulysses   gave." — Comus. 


EDEN.  171 

The  tree  of  knowledge  th' other  tree  behight. 
Not  that  it  selfly  had  such  special  might 
As  men's  dull  wits  could  whet  and  sharpen  so, 
That  in  a  moment  they  might  all  things  know. 
'Twas  a  sure  pledge,  a  sacred  sign  and  seal, 
Which  being  ta'en,  should  to  light  man  reveal 
What  odds  there  is  between  still  peace  and  strife, 
God's  wrath  and  love,  dread  death  and  dearest  life, 
Solace  and  sorrow,  guile  and  innocence, 
Rebellious  pride  and  humble  obedience. 

For  God  had  not  deprived  that  primer  season 
The  sacred  lamp  and  light  of  learned  reason. 
Mankind  was  then  a  thousandfold  more  wise 
Than  now ;  blind  error  had  not  bleared  his  eyes 
With  mists  which  make  th'Athenian  sage  suppose 
That    naught    he   knows    save   this, — that    naught    he 

knows. 

That  even  light  Pyrrhon's  wavering  fantasies 
'Reave  him  the  skill  his  un-skill  to  agnize. 
And  the  Abderite21  within  a  well  obscure 
As  deep,  as  dark,  the  truth  of  things  immure. 

He,  happy,  knew  the  good  by  th'use  of  it; 
He  knew  the  bad  but  not  by  proof  as  yet ; 
But  as  they  say  of  great  Hippocrates, 
Who,  though  his  limbs  were  numbed  with  no  excess, 
Nor  stopped  his  throat,  nor  vexed  his  fantasy, 
Knew  the  cold  cramp,  th'angine,  and  lunacy, 
And  hundred  else  pains,  whence  in  lusty  flower, 
He  lived  exempt  a  hundred  years  and  four. 
Or  like  the  pure,  heaven-prompted  prophets  rather, 
Whose  sight  so  clearly  future  things  did  gather, 
Because  the  world's  soul,  in  their  soul  ensealed 
The  holy  stamp  of  secrets  most  concealed. 

But  our  now-knowledge  hath  for  tedious  train 
A  drooping  life  and  over-racked  brain, 


2lDemocritus  is  probably  meant.  He  was  an  adherent  of  the  atomic 
theory  of  Leucippus,  which  bore  considerable  resemblance  to  the  nebu- 
lar theory  of  stellar  origins. 


172  THE  STORY  OF  ADAM. 

A  face  forlorn,  a  sad  and  sullen  fashion, 

A  restless  toil,  and  care's  self-pining  passion. 

Knowledge  was  then  even  the  soul's  soul  for  light, 

The  spirit's  calm  port  and  lantern  shining  bright 

To  straight-stepped  feet,  clear  knowledge  not  confused, 

Not  sour,  but  sweet ;  not  gotten,  but  infused, 

Now  heaven's  eternal,  all-foreseeing  King, 
Who  never  rashly  ordereth  anything, 
Thought  good  that  man,  having  yet  spirits  sound-stated, 
Should  dwell  elsewhere  than  where  he  was  created, 
That  he  might  know  he  did  not  hold  this  place 
By  nature's  right,  but  by  mere  gift  and  grace; 
That  he  should  never  taste  fruits  unpermitted, 
But  keep  the  sacred  pledge  to  him  committed, 
And  dress  that  park  which  God,  without  all  term, 
On  these  conditions  gave  him  as  in  farm. 

God  would  that,  void  of  painful  labor,  he 
Should  live  in  Eden ;  but  not  idlely, 
For  idleness  pure  innocence  subverts, 
Defiles  our  body  and  our  soul  perverts. 
Yea,  soberest  men  it  makes  delicious;22 
To  virtue  dull,  to  vice  ingenious.23 
But  that  first  travel  had  no  sympathy 
With  our  since-travail's  wretched  cruelty, 
Distilling  sweat  and  panting,  wanting  wind, 
Which  was  a  scourge  for  Adam's  sin  assigned. 

For  Eden's  earth  was  then  so  fertile  fat, 
That  he  made  only  sweet  essays  in  that 
Of  skillful  industry,  and  naked  wrought, 
More  for  delight  than  for  the  gain  he  sought. 
In  brief  it  was  a  pleasant  exercise, 
A  labor  liked,  a  pain  much  like  the  guise 
Of  cunning  dancers,  who,  although  they  skip, 
Run,  caper,  vault,  traverse  and  turn,  and  trip 
From  morn  till  even,  at  night  again  full  merry 
Renew  their  dance,  of  dancing  never  weary. 


22Giving  oneself  up  to  the  search  for  pleasure. 
23"ingenious"  here  means  of  the  same  genus  or  race. 


EDEN.  173 

Or  else  of  hunters,  that  with  happy  luck 

Rousing  betimes  some  often  breathed  buck 

Or  goodly  stag,  their  yelping  hounds  uncouple, 

Wind  loud  their  horns,  their  whoops  and  hallos  double, 

Spur  on  and  spare  not,  following  their  desire, 

Themselves  unweary  though  their  hackneys  tire. 

But,  for  in  th'end  of  all  their  jollity 

There's  found  much  stiffness,  sweat  and  vanity, 

I  rather  match  it  to  the  pleasing  pain 

Of  angels  pure,  who  ever  sloth  disdain, 

Or  to  the  sun's  calm  course,  who  painless,  ay 

About  the  welkin  posteth  night  and  day. 

Doubtless  when  Adam  saw  our  common  air, 
He  did  admire  the  mansion  rich  and  fair 
Of  his  successors ;  for  frost  keenly  cold 
The  shady  locks  of  forests  had  not  polled  ;24 
Heaven  had  not  thundered  on  our  heads  as  yet, 
Nor  given  the  earth  her  sad  divorce's  writ. 

But,  when  he  once  had  entered  paradise, 
The  remnant  world  he  justly  did  despise, 
Much  like  a  boor,  far  in  the  country  born, 
Who,  never  havin,g  seen  but  kine  and  corn, 
Oxen  and  sheep,  and  homely  hamlets  thatched, 
Which,  fond,  he  counts  as  kingdoms  hardly  matched, 
When  afterward  he  happens  to  behold25 
Our  wealthy  London's  wonders  manifold, 
The  silly  peasant  thinks  himself  to  be 
In  a  new  world ;  and  gazing  greedily, 
One  while  he,  artless,  all  the  arts  admires, 
Then  the  fair  temples  and  their  topless  spires, 
^heir  firm  foundations  and  the  massive  pride 
Of  all  their  sacred  ornaments  beside, 
Anon  he  wonders  at  the  differing  graces, 
Tongues,. gests,  attires;  the  fashions  and  the  faces 
Of  busy-buzzing  swarms  which  still  he  meets, 
Ebbing  and  flowing  over  all  the  streets ; 


24"polled"  is  also  used  by  Keats  in  the  sense  of  "pruned". 

25This  and  the  following  twenty-one  lines  are  added  by  Sylvester. 


174  THE  STORY  OF  ADAM. 

Then  at  the  signs,  the  shops,  the  weights,  the  measures. 

The  handicrafts,  the  rumors,  trades  and  treasures; 

But  of  all  sights  none  seems  him  yet  more  strange 

Than  the  rare,  beauteous,  stately,  rich  Exchange. 

Another  while  he  marvels  at  the  Thames, 

Which  seems  to  bear  huge  mountains  on  her  streams ; 

Then  at  the  fair-built  bridge,  which  he  doth  judige 

More  like  a  tradeful  city  than  a  bridge, 

And  glancing  thence  alon<g  the  northern  shore, 

That  princely  prospect  doth  amaze  him  more. 

For  in  that  garden  man  delighted  so 
That,  rapt,  he  wist  not  if  he  waked  or  no; 
If  he  beheld  a  true  thing  or  a  fable, 
Or  earth  or  heaven;  all  more  than  admirable; 
For  such  excess  his  ecstasy  was  small, 
Not  having  spirit  enough  to  muse  withal. 
He  wished  him  hundredfold  redoubled  senses, 
The  more  to  taste  so  rare,  sweet  excellences, 
Not  knowing  whether  nose,  or  ears,  or  eyes, 
Smelt,  heard  or  saw  more  savors,  sounds,  or  dyes. 

But  Adam's  best  and  supreme  delectation 
Was  the  often  haunt  and  ho<ly  conversation 
His  soul  and  body  had  so>  many  ways 
With  God,  who  lightened  Eden  with  His  rays. 
For  spirits  by  faith  religiously  refined 
'Twixt  God  and  man  retain  a  middle  kind, 
And,  umpires,  mortal  to  th'immortal  join, 
And  th'infinite  in  narrow  clay  confine. 

Sometimes  by  you,  O  you  all-feigning  dreams, 
We  gain  this  good,  but  not  when  Bacchus'  steams 
And  glutton  vapors  overflow  the  brain, 
And  drown  our  spirits,  presenting  fancies  vain; 
Nor  when  pale  phlegm,  or  saffron-colored  choler, 
In  feeble  stomachs  belch  with  diverse  dolor, 
And  print  upon  our  understandings'  tables, 
That,  water-wracks;  this  other  flameful  fables; 
Nor  when  the  spirit  of  lies  our  spirits  deceives, 
And  guileful  visions  in  our  fancy  leaves ; 
Nor  when  the  pencil  of  cares  overdeep 


EDEN.  175 

Our  day-bred  thoughts  depainteth  in  our  sleep; 
But  when  no  more  the  soul's  chief  faculties 
Are  'spersed,  to  serve  the  body  many  ways, 
When  all  self-uned,  free  from  day's  disturber, 
Through  such  sweet  trance  she  finds  a  quiet  harbor, 
Where,  some  in  riddles,  some  more  plain  expressed, 
She  sees  things  future  in  th'Almighty's  breast. 

And  yet,  far  higher  is  this  holy  fit, 
When  not  from  flesh,  but  from  flesh-cares  acquit, 
The  wakeful  soul  itself  assembling  so, 
All  selfly  dies,  while  that  the  body  though 
Lies  motionless,  for  sanctified  wholly, 
It  takes  th'impression  of  God's  signet  solely, 
And  in  His  sacred,  crystal  map  doth  see 
Heaven's  oracles,  and  angels'  glorious  glee 
Made  more  than  spirit.26     Now,  morrow,  yesterday, 
To  it  all  one  are ;  all  as  present  ay ; 
And  though  it  seem  not,  when  the  dream's  expired, 
Like  that  it  was,  yet  is  it  much  admired 
Of  rarest  men,  and  shines  amon,g  them  bright, 
Like  glistering  stars  through  gloomy  shades  of  night. 

But  above  all,  that's  the  divinest  trance, 
When  the  soul's  eye  beholds  God's  countenance ; 
When  mouth  to  mouth  familiarly  He  deals, 
And  in  our  face  His  dread,  sweet  face  He  seals; 
As  when  St.  Paul  on  his  dear  Master's  wings 
Was  rapt,  alive,  up  to  th'eternal  things, 
And  he  that  whilom  for  the  chosen  flock 
Made  walls  of  waters,  waters  of  a  rock. 

O  sacred  flight !  sweet  rape !  love's  sovereign  bliss ! 
Which  very  love's  dear  lips  dost  make  us  kiss ! 
Hymen,  of  manna  and  of  mel  compact, 
Which  for  a  time  dost  heaven  with  earth  contract; 
Fire,  that  in  limbeck  of  pure  thoughts  divine 
Dost  purge  our  thoughts,  and  our  dull  earth  refine, 


26lt  appears  from  this  that  what  the  revivalist  preachers  of  a  century 
ago  described  as  "the  power"  was  not  unknown  in  France  two  cen- 
turies earlier.  A  good  description  of  the  "holy  fits"  may  be  read  in 
Mrs.  Trollope's  "Domestic  Manners  of  the  Americans." 


176  THE  STORY  OF  ADAM. 

.     And  mounting  us  to  heaven,  un-moving  hence, 
Man  in  a  trice  in  God  dost  quintessence. 

0  mad'st  thou  man  divine  in  habitude, 
As  for  a  space, — O  sweetest  solitude, 
Thy  bliss  were  equal  with  that  happy  rest 
Which  after  death  shall  make  us  ever  blest. 

Now  I  believe  that  in  this  latter  guise 
Man  did  converse  in  pleasant  paradise 
With  heaven's  great  Architect,  and  happy,  there 
His  body  saw,  (or  body,  as  it  were,) 
Gloriously  compact  with  the  blessed  legions 
That  reign  above  the  azure,  spangled  regions. 

"Adam,"  quoth  He,  "the  beauties  manifold 
That  in  this  Eden  here  thou  dost  behold, 
Are  all  thine  only ;  enter,  sacred  race ; 
Come,  take  possession  of  this  wealthy  place. 
The  earth's  sole  glory  take,  dear  son,  to  thee. 
This  farm's  demesnes  leave  the  chief  right  to  me, 
And  th'only  rent  that  of  it  I  reserve  is 
One  tree's  fair  fruit,  to  show  thy  suit  and  service. 
Be  thou  the  liege  and  I  Lord  paramount ; 
I'll  not  exact  hard  fines  as  men  shall  wont, 
For  sign  of  homage  and  for  seal  of  faith ; 
Of  all  the  profits  this  possessions  hath, 

1  only  ask  one  tree,  whose  fruit  I  will 

For  sacrament  shall  stand,  of  good  and  ill. 

Take  all  the  rest,  I  bid  thee ;  but  I  vow 

By  th'unnamed  Name  whereto  all  knees  do  bow, 

And  by  the  keen  darts  of  my  kindled  ire, 

More  fiercely  burning  than  consuming  fire, 

That,  of  the  fruit  of  knowledge  if  thou  feed, 

Death,  dreadful  death,  shall  plague  thee  and  thy  seed. 

If,  then,  the  happy  state  thou  hold'st  of  me, 

My  holy  mildness  nor  high  majesty, — 

If  faith  nor  honor  curb  thy  bold  ambition, 

Yet  weigh  thyself  and  thy  own  seed's  condition." 

"Most  mighty  Lord,"  quoth  Adam,  "here  I  tender 
All  thanks  I  can,  not  all  I  should  Thee  render, 
For  all  Thy  liberal  favors,  far  surmounting 


EDEN.  177 

My  heart's  conceit ;  much  more  my  tongue's  recounting. 

At  Thy  command  I  would  with  boisterous  shock 

Go,  run  myself  against  the  hardest  rock, 

Or  cast  me  headlong  from  some  mountain  steep 

Down  to  the  whirling  bottom  of  the  deep; 

Yea,  at  Thy  beck  I  would  not  spare  the  life 

Of  my  dear  Phoenix,  sister-daughter-wife; 

Obeying  Thee,  I  find  the  things  impossible, 

Cruel,  and  painful ;  pleasant,  kind,  and  possible. 

"But  since  Thy  first  law  doth  more  grace  afford 
Unto  the  subject  than  the  sovereign  lord, — 
Since,  bounteous  Prince,  on  me  and  my  descent 
Thou  dost  impose  no  other  tax  nor  rent. 
But  one  sole  precept  of  most  just  condition, — 
No  precept  neither,  but  a  prohibition, — 
And  since,  good  God,  of  all  the  fruits  in  Eden 
There's  but  one  apple  that  I  am  forbidden, 
Even  only  that  which  bitter  death  doth  threat, 
Better,  perhaps,  to  look  on  than  to  eat, 
I  honor  in  my  soul  and  humbly  kiss 
Thy  just  edict  as  Author  of  my  bliss, 
Which  once  transgressed  deserves  the  rigor  rather 
Of  sharpest  judge  than  mildness  of  a  father. 

"The  firmament  shall  retrograde  its  course, 
Swift  Euphrates  go  hide  him  in  his  source, 
Firm  mountains  skip  like  lambs  beneath  the  deep, 
Eagles  shall  dive,  whales  in  the  air  shall  keep, 
Ere  I  presume  with  fingers'  ends  to  touch, — 
Much  less  with  lips, — the  fruit  forbade  so  much." 

Thus  yet  in  league  with  heaven  and  earth  he  lives, 
Enjoying   all   the  goods  th'Almighty   gives, 
And,  yet  not  treading  sin's  false  mazy  measures, 
Sails  on  smooth  surges  of  a  sea  of  pleasures. 

Here,  underneath  a  fragrant  hedge,  reposes 
Full  of  all  kinds  of  sweet,  all-colored  roses,27 


27Comparison  of  this  description  of  Eden  with  that  in  the  fourth 
book  of  Par.  Lost,  verses  215-287  will  bring  many  parallel  passages 
to  light. 


178  THE  STORY  OF  ADAM. 

Which  one  would  think  the  angels  daily  dress 
In  true  love-knots,  triangles,  lozenges. 

Anon  he  walketh  in  a  level  lane 
On  either  side  beset  with  shady  plane 
Whose  arched  boughs  for  frieze  and  cornice  bear 
Thick  groves  to  shield  from  future  change  of  air. 
Then  in  a  path  impaled  in  pleasant  wise 
With  sharp,  sweet,  orange,  lemon,  citron  trees, 
Whose  leafy  twigs  that  intricately  tangle 
Seem  painted  walls  whereon  true  fruits  do  dangle. 

Now  in  a  plenteous  orchard,  planted  rare 
With  un-graft  trees  in  checker,  round  and  square, 
Whose  goodly  fruits  so  on  his  will  do  wait, 
That  plucking  one,  another's  ready  straight, 
And  having  tasted  all  with  due  satiety, 
Finds  all  one  goodness,  but  in  taste  variety. 

Anon  he  stalketh  with  an  easy  stride 
By  some  clear  river's  lily  paved  side, 
Whose  sands  pure  gold,  whose  pebbles  precious  gems, 
And  liquid  silver  all  the  curling  streams, 
Whose  chiding  murmur,  mazing  in  and  out, 
With  crystal  cisterns  moats  a  mead  about, 
And  th'artless  bridges,  overthwart  this  torrent, 
Are  rocks  self-arched  by  the  eating  current, 
Or  loving  palms,  whose  lusty  females,  willing 
Their  marrow-boiling  loves  to  be  fulfilling, 
And  reach  their  husband-trees  on  th'other  banks, 
Bow  their  stiff  backs  and  serve  for  passing  planks. 

Then  in  a  goodly  garden's  alleys  smooth, 
Where  prodigue  Nature  sets  abroad  her  booth 
Of  richest  beauties,  where  each  bed  and  border 
Is  like  pied  posies'  diverse  dyes  and  order. 

Now  far  from  noise  he  creepeth  covertly 
Into  a  cave  of  kindly  porphyry, 
Which  rock-fallen  spouts,  congealed  by  colder  air, 
Seem  with  smooth  antics28  to1  have  ceiled  fair. 


28probably  a  phonetic  spelling  of  "antiques"  as  pronounced  by  the 
writer. 


EDEN.  179 

There,  laid  at  ease  a  cubit  from  the  ground, 

Upon  a  jasper  fringed  with  ivy  round, 

Purfled29  with  veins,  thick  thrummed  with  mossy  beaver, 

He  falls  asleep  fast  by30  a  silent  river 

Whose    captive   streams,    through   crooked   pipes    still 

rushing, 

Make  sweeter  music,  with  their  gentle  gushing, 
Than  now  at  Tivoli  th'hydrantic31  brawl 
Of  rich  Ferrara's  stately  cardinal. 
Or  Ctesibes'  rare  engines  framed  there 
Whereas  they  made  of  Ibis  Jupiter.32 

Musing  anon  through  crooked  walks  he  wanders 
Round  winding  rings  and  intricate  meanders, 
False-guiding  paths,  doubtful,  beguiling  strays, 
And  right-wrong  errors  of  an  endless  maze ; 
Not  simply  hedged  with  a  simple  border 
Of  rosemary  cut  out  with  curious  order 
Tn  satyrs,  centaurs,  whales  and  half-men  horses, 
And  thousand  other  counterfeited  corses, 
Rut  with  true  beasts,  fast  in  the  ground  still  sticking, 
Feeding  on  grass  and  th'airy  moisture  licking, 
Such  as  those  bonarets33  in  Scythia  bred 
Of  slender  seeds  and  with  green  fodder  fed 
Although  their  bodies,  noses,  mouths  and  eyes, 
Of  new  yeaned  lambs  have  full  the  form  and  guise, 
And  should  be  very  lambs  save  that,  for  foot, 
Within  the  ground  they  fix  a  living  root, 
Which  at  their  navel  grows,  and  dies  that  day 
That  they  have  browsed  the  neighbor  grass  away, 


29"Purfled"  signifies  ornamented.  "Beaver"  seems  to  refer  to  the 
thick  cloth  so  named,  and  "thrummed"  has  the  general  sense  of  inter- 
woven. 

30"Past  by"  was  not  a  common  phrase  in  the  age  of  Sylvester  and 
Shakespeare.  Milton  uses  it  in  the  invocation  of  Par.  Lost. 

3l"Hydrantic"  may  be  a  printer's  error  for  hydraulic,  but  would 
seem  to  be  formed  naturally  enough  from  hydrant.  "Brawl"  has  been 
explained  in  a  note  to  Day  1,  ante. 

32Turned  marsh  into  dry  land. 

33The  "bonaret"  may  be  a  kind  of  orchid  of  which  extravagant  ac- 
counts were  given  by  travelers.  See  Par.  Lost,  VII,  464. 


180  THE  STORY  OP  ADAM. 

O  wondrous  virtue  of  God  only  good ! 
The  beast  hath  root ;  the  plant  hath  flesh  and  blood ; 
The  nimble  plant  can  turn  it  to  and  fro; 
The  numbed  beast  can  neither  stir  nor  go ; 
Tthe  plant  is  leafless,  branchless,  void  of  fruit; 
The  beast  is  lustless,  sexless,  fireless,  mute; 
The  plant  with  plants  his  hungry  paunch  doth  feed ; 
Th'admired  beast  is  sown  a  slender  seed. 

Then  up  and  down  a  forest  thick  he  paceth, 
Which,  selfly  opening,  in  his  presence  'baseth 
Her  trembling  tresses'  never-vading  spring, 
For  humble  homage  to  her  mighty  king, 
Where  thousand  trees,  waving  with  gentle  puffs 
Their  plumy  tops,  sweep  the  celestial  roofs ; 
Yet  envying  all  the  massy  cerbas'34  fame 
Since  fifty  paces  can  but  clasp  the  same. 

There  springs  the  shrub,  three  foot  above  the  grass, 
Which  fears  the  keen  edge  of  the  curtelace, 
Whereof  the  rich  Egyptian  so  endears 
Root,  bark,  and  much,  much  more,  the  tears.35 

There  lives  the  sea-oak  in  a  little  shell, 
There  grows,  untilled,  the  ruddy  cochineal, 
And  there  the  kermes  which  on  each  side  arms 
With  pointed  prickles  all  his  precious  arms ; 
Rich  trees,  and  fruitful  in  those  worms  of  price 
Which  pressed,  yield  a  crimson-colored  juice, 
Whence  thousand  lambs  are  dyed  so  deep  in  grain 
That  their  own  mothers  know  them  not  again.36 

There  mounts  the  melt,37  which  serves  in  Mexico 
For  weapon,  wood,  needle,  and  thread  to  sew, 
Brick,  honey,  sugar,  sucket,  balm  and  wine, 
P'archment,  perfume,  apparel,  cord  and  line. 


34A  marginal  note  in  the  folios  states  that  the  cerbas  is  "a  tree  in 
the  Indies  fifteen  fathoms  about." 

SSPerhaps  the  Acacia  Nilotica  is  indicated. 

36A  common  saying  now  with  little  change  in  the  words. 

STApparently  the  agave,  although  here  endowed  with  too  many  func- 
tions. 


EDEN.  181 

His  wood  for  fire,  his  harder  leaves  are  fit 
For  thousand  uses  of  inventive  wit. 

Sometimes  thereon  they  grave  their  holy  things, 
Laws,  lauds  of  idols,  and  the  gests  of  kings  j38 
Sometimes,  conjoined  by  a  cunning  hand, 
Upon  their  roofs  for  rows  of  tile  they  stand ; 
Sometimes  they  twine  them  into  equal  threads. 
Small  ends  make  needles,  greater,  arrow-heads; 
His  upper  sap  the  sting  of  serpents  cures ; 
His  new-sprung  bud  a  rare  conserve  indures; 
His  burned  stalks  with  strong  fumosities 
Of  piercing  vapors,  purge  the  French  disease, 
And  they  extract  from  liquor  of  his  feet 
Sharp  vinegar,  pure  honey,  sugar  sweet. 

There  quakes  the  plant  which,  in  Pudefetan, 
Is  called  "the  shame-faced;"  for,  ashamed  of  man 
If  towards  it  one  do  approach  too  much 
It  shrinks  its  boughs  to  shun  our  hateful  touch, 
As  if  it  had  a  soul,  a  sense,  and  sight 
Subject  to  shame,  fear,  sorrow,  and  despite. 

And  there  that  tree  from  off  whose  trembling  top 
Both  swimming  shoals  and  flying  troops  do  drop. 
I  mean  the  tree  now  in  Juturna  growing, 
Whose  leaves,  dispersed  by  Zephyr's  wanton  blowing, 
Are  metamorphosed  both  in  form  and  matter, 
On  land  to  fowls,  to  fishes  in  the  water.39 
But  seest  them  not,  dear  Muse,  thou  tread'st  the  same 
Too  curious  path  thou  dost  in  others  blame ; 
And  striv'st  in  vain  to  paint  this  work  so  choice, 
The  which  no  human  spirit  nor  hand  nor  voice 
Can  once  conceive,  less  portray,  least  express, 
All  overwhelmed  in  gulfs  so  bottomless? 


38See  note  2,  ante. 

39"!  told  them  that  in  our  country  were  trees  that  bear  fruit  which 
become  birds  flying;  and  those  that  fall  in  the  water  live,  and  they 
that  fall  on  the  earth  die  anon;  and  they  be  right  good  to  man's 
meat." — Sir  John  Maundeville,  ch.  XXVI.  See  also  Lupton's  "Notable 
Things,"  Book  VII,  sec.  3,  and  Harrison's  "Description  of  Britain"  in 
Holinshed. 


182  THE  STORY  OF  ADAM. 

Who  matching  art  with  nature,  likeneth 
Our  grounds  to  Eden,  fondly  measureth 
By  painted  butterflies  th'imperial  eagle, 
And  th'elephant  by  every  little  beagle. 

This  fear  to  fail  shall  serve  me  for  a  bridle, 
Lest,  lacking  wings  and  guide,  too  busy-idle 
And  over-bold  God's  cabinet  I  climb, 
To  seek  the  place  and  search  the  very  time 
When  both  our  parents,  or  but  one,  was  ta'en 
Out  of  our  earth  into  that  fruitful  plain ; 
How  long  they  had  that  garden  in  possession 
Before  their  proud  and  insolent  transgression; 
What  children  there  they  earned40  and  how  many, 
Of  whether  sex,  or  whether  none  or  any, 
And  how,  at  least,  they  should  have  propagated, 
If  the  sly  malice  of  the  serpent  hated, 
Causing  their  fall,  had  not  defiled  their  kin 
And  unborn  seed  with  leprosy  of  sin.       .     .     . 

Whether   their    seed    should   with    their   birth    have 

brought 

Deep  knowledge,  reason,  understanding,  thought, 
Since  now  we  see  the  new  fallen,  feeble  lamb 
Yet  stained  with  blood  of  his  distressed  dam, 
Knows  well  the  wolf,  at  whose  fell  sight  he  shakes, 
And  right  the  teat  of  th'unknown  ewe  he  takes, 
And  since  a  dull  dunce,  which  no  knowledge  can, 
Is  a  dead  image  and  no  living  man. 
Or  the  thick  veil  of  ignorance's  night 
Had  hooded  up  their  issue's  inward  sight 
Since  the  much  moisture  of  an  infant  brain 
Receives  so  many  shapes  that,  overlain, 
New  dash  the  old,  and  the  trim  commixation 
Of  confused  fancies  full  of  alteration 
Makes  th'under  standing  hull,  which  settle  would, 
But  finds  no  firm  ground  for  its  anchors  hold. 

Whether  old  Adam  should  have  left  the  place 
Unto  his  sons,  they  to  their  after  race, 

40"Earned"  is  probably  a  misprint  for  "eaned". 


EDEN.  183 

Or  whether  all  together  at  the  last 

Should  gloriously  from  thence  to  heaven  have  passed, — 

Search  whoso  list ;  who  list  let  vaunt  in  pride 

T'have  hit  the  white,  and  let  him,  sage,  decide 

The  many  other  doubts  that  vainly  rise. 

For  mine  own  part  I  will  not  seem  so  wise. 

I  will  not  waste  my  travail  and  my  seed, 

To  reap  an  empty  straw  or  fruitless  reed. 

Alas,  we  know  what  Orion41  of  grief 
Rained  on  the  cursed  head  of  the  creatures'  chief, 
After  that  God  against  him  war  proclaimed ; 
But  none  can  know  precisely  how,  at  all, 
Our  elders  lived  before  their  odious  fall. 
An  unknown  cipher  and  deep  pit  it  is 
Where  Dircean  Oedipus42  his  marks  would  miss, 
Since  Adam's  self,  if  now  he  lived  anew, 
Could  scant  unwind  the  knotty,  snarled  clew 
Of  double  doubts,  and  questions  intricate, 
That  schools  dispute  about  this  pristine  state. 

But  this  sole  point  I  rest  resolved  in, — 
That  seeing  death's  the  mere  effect  of  sin, 
Man  had  not  dreaded  death's  all-slaying  might, 
Had  he  still  stood  in  innocence  upright. 

For  as  two  bellows,  blowing  turn  by  turn, 
By  little  and  little  make  cold  coals  to  burn, 
And  then  their  fire  inflames  with  glowing  heat 
An  iron  bar  which,  on  the  anvil  beat, 
Seems  no  more  iron,  but  flies  almost  all 
In  hissing  sparks  and  quick,  bright  cinders  small, 
So  the  world's  soul  should  in  our  soul  inspire 
Th'eternal  force  of  an  eternal  fire ; 
And  then  our  soul,  as  form,  breathe  in  our  corse 
Her  countless  numbers  and  heaven-tuned  force, 

4l"The  rainy  Hyades"  are  near  the  constellation  Orion.  This  is  not 
the  only  place  where  Sylvester  plays  havoc  with  the  pronunciation 
of  classical  proper  names. 

42Oedipus  did  wonderful  guessing  on  the  question  of  the  Sphinx,  but 
why  he  is  called  "Dircean"  does  not  clearly  appear.  Dirce  was  a  queen 
of  Thebes,  killed  by  being  dragged  about  by  a  bull,  but  not  related 
to  Oedipus  otherwise,  so  far  as  I  can  ascertain. 


184  THE  STORY  OF  ADAM. 

Wherewith  our  bodies'  beauties,  beautified, 
Should,  like  our  deathless  soul,  have  never  died. 

Here  wot  I  well  some  wranglers  will  presume 
To  say  small  fire  will  by  degrees  consume 
Our  humor  radical,  and  howbeit 
The  differing  virtues  of  those  fruits  as  yet 
Had  no  agreement  with  the  harmful  spite 
Of  the  fell,  Persian,  dangerous  aconite, 
And  notwithstanding  that  then  Adam's  taste 
Could  well  have  used  all  without  all  waste, 
Yet  could  they  not  restore  him  every  day 
Unto  his  body  that  which  did  decay, 
Because  the  food  can  not,  as  beinig  strange, 
So  perfectly  in  human  substance  change. 
For  it  resembleth  wine  wherein  too  rife 
Water  is  brewed,  whereby  the  pleasant  life 
Is  over-cooled,  and  so  there  rests  in  fine 
Naught  of  the  strength,  savor,  or  taste  of  wine. 
Besides,  in  time  the  natural  faculties 
Are  tired  with  toil,  and  th'humor-enemies, 
Our  death  conspiring,  undermine  at  last 
Of  our  souls'  prisons  the  foundations  fast. 

Aye,  but  the  tree  of  life  the  strife  did  stay, 
Which  th'humors  caused  in  this  house  of  clay 
And  stopping  th'evil,  changed  (perfect  good 
In  body  fed,)  the  body  of  the  food ; 
Only  the  soul's  contagious  malady 
Had  force  to  frustrate  this  high  remedy. 

Immortal,  then,  and  mortal,  man  was  made; 
Mortal  he  lived,  and  did  immortal  vade; 
For,  'fore  th'effects  of  his  rebellious  ill, 
To  die  or  live  was  in  his  power  and  will ; 
But  since  his  sin  and  proud  apostasy, 
Ah !  die  he  may,  but  not,  alas,  not  die ! 
As,  after  his  new  birth  he  shall  attain, 
Only,  a  power  to  never  die  again. 


THE  IMPOSTURE 


O  who  shall  lend  me  light  and  nimble  wings 
That,  passing  swallows  and  the  swiftest  things, 
Even  in  a  moment,  boldly  daring  I 
From  hell  to  heaven,  from  heaven  to  hell  may  fly? 
O  who  shall  show  the  countenance  and  gestures 
Of  Mercy  and  Justice,  which  fair,  sacred  sisters 
With  equal  poise  do  ever  balance  even 
Th'unchanging  projects  of  the  King  of  Heaven? 
One  stern  of  look,  the  other  mild  aspecting, 
One  pleased  with  tears,  the  other  blood  affectinig; 
One  bears  the  sword  on  vengeance  unrelenting, 
The  other  pardon  brings  for  the  repenting ; 
One  from  earth's  Eden  Adam  did  dismiss, 
The  other  raised  him  to  a  higher  bliss. 

Who  shall  direct  my  pen  to  paint  the  story 
Of  wretched  man's  forbidden-bit,  lost  glory? 
What  spell  shall  charm  th'attentive  reader's  sense? 
What  fount  shall  fill  my  voice  with  eloquence, 
Though  Adam's  doom,  in  every  sermon  common, 
And  founded  on  the  error  of  a  woman, 
Weary  the  vulgar  and  be  deemed  a  jest 
Of  the  profane,  zeal-scoffing  atheist? 

Ah,  Thou,  my  God,  even  Thou,  my  soul  refining 
In  holy  Faith's  pure  furnace,  clearly  shining, 
Shalt  make  my  hap  far  to  surmount  my  hope, 
Instruct  my  spirit,  and  give  my  tongue  smooth  scope. 
Thou,  bounteous,  in  my  bold  attempts  shalt  grace  me, 
And  in  the  ranks  of  holiest  poets  place  me; 
And  frankly  grant  that  soaring  near  the  sky 
Among  our  authors  eagle-like  I  fly, — 
Or  at  the  least,  if  Heaven  such  hap  denay, 


186  THE  STORY  OF  ADAM. 

I  may  point  others  Heaven's  beauteous  way. 

While  Adam  bathes  in  these  felicities 
Hell's  prince,  sly  parent  of  revolt  and  lies, 
Feels  a  pestiferous,  busy-swarming  nest 
Of  never  dying  dragons  in  his  breast, 
Sucking  his  blood,  tiring  upon  his  lungs, 
Pinching  his  bowels  with  ten  thousand  tongues, 
His  cursed  soul  still  most  extremely  racking, 
So  frank  in  giving  torments  and  in  taking ; 
But  above  all,  hate,  pride  and  envious  spite 
His  hellish  life  do*  torture  day  and  night. 
For  the  hate  he  bears  to  God,  who  hath  him  driven 
Justly,  forever,  from  the  glittering1  heaven, 
To  dwell  in  darkness  of  a  sulphury  cloud, 
Though  still  his  brethren's  service  be  allowed, — 
The  proud  desire  to>  have  in  his  subjection 
Mankind,  enchained  in  gyves  of  sin's  infection, 
And  th'envious  heart-break  to  see  yet  to  shine 
In  Adam's  face  God's  image,  all  divine, 
Which  he  had  lost,  and  that  man  might  achieve 
The  glorious  bliss  his  pride  did  him  deprive, — 
Grown  barbarous  tyrants  of  his  treacherous  will, 
Spur  on  his  course,  his  rage  redoubling  still.       .     . 

To  vent  his  poison,  this  notorious  tempter — 
Mere  spirit, — assails  not  Eve,  but  doth  attempt  her 
In  feigned  form ;  for  else  the  soul  divine 
Which  ruled  as  queen  the  little  world's  design, 
So  purely  kept  her  vow  of  chastity, 
That  he  in  vain  should  tempt  her  constancy. 
Therefore  he  fleshly  doth  the  flesh  assay, 
Suborning  that,  its  mistress  to  betray, — 
A  subtle  pander  with  more  'ticing  slights 
Than  sea  hath  fish,  or  heaven  hath  twinkling  lights. 


iThe  fact  that  the  word  "glittering"  sometimes  appears  in  the  Divine 
Weeks  instead  of  the  usual  "glistering"  is  an  indication  that  the  two 
forms  were  differentiated  as  to  meaning.  "Glister"  seemed  to  be 
practically  a  synonym  of  "shine",  while  "glitter"  had  already  assumed 
its  present  signification. 


THE  IMPOSTURE.  187 

For,  had  he  been  of    an  ethereal  matter, 
Of  fiery  substance  or  aerial  nature, 
The  needful  help  of  language  had  he  wanted, 
Whereby  faith's  groundwork  was  to  be  supplanted, 
Since  such  pure  bodies  have  not  teeth  nor  tongues, 
Lips,  art'ries,  nose,  palate,  nor  panting  lungs, 
Which,  rightly  placed,  are  properly  created 
True  instruments  of  sounds  articulated. 

And  furthermore,  though  from  his  birth  he'd  had 
Heart-charming  cunning,  smoothly  to  persuade, 
He  feared,  malicious,  if  he  careless  came 
Unmasked,  like  himself,  in  his  own  name, 
In  deep  distrust  man,  entering,  suddenly 
Would  stop  his  ears,  and  his  foul  presence  fly; 
As,  opposite,  taking  the  shining  face 
Of  sacred  angels,  full  of  glorious  grace, 
He  then  suspected  the  Omnipotent 
Might  think  man's  fall  scarce  worthy  punishment. 

Much  like,  therefore,  some  thief  that  doth  conceive 
From  travelers  both  life  and  goods  to  reave, 
And  in  the  twilight,  while  the  moon  doth  play 
In  Thetis'  palace,  near  the  king's  highway 
Himself  doth  ambush  in  a  bushy  thorn, — 
Then  in  a  cave, — then  in  a  field  of  corn, — 
Creeps  to  and  fro,  and  fisketh  in  and  out, 
And  yet  the  safety  of  each  place  doth  doubt, 
Till,  resolute  at  last,  upon  his  knee 
Taking  his  level,  from  a  hollow  tree, 
He  swiftly  sends  his  fire-winged  messenger, 
At  his  false  suit  t'arrest  the  passenger, — 
Our  freedom's  felon,  fountain  of  our  sorrow, 
Thinks  now  the  beauty  of  a  horse  to  borrow ; 
Anon  to  creep  into  a  heifer's  side; 
Then  in  a  cock  or  in  a  dog  to  hide ; 
Then  in  a  nimble  hart  himself  to  shroud; 
Then  in  the  starred  plumes  of  a  peacock  proud ; 
And,  lest  he  miss  the  mischief  to  effect, 
Oft  changeth  mind  and  varies  oft  aspect. 
At  last,  remembering  that,  of  all  the  broods 


188  THE  STORY  OF  ADAM. 

In  water,  air,  plains,  mountains,  wilds  and  woods, 

The  knotty  serpent's  spotty  generation 

Are  filled  with  infectious  inflammation ; 

And  though  they  want  dogs'  teeth,  boars'  tusks,  bears' 

paws, 

The  vulture's  beak,  bull's  horns,  and  gryphon's  claws,— 
Yea,  seem  so  weak  as  if  they  had  not  might 
To  hurt  us  once ;  much  less  to  kill  us  quite ; 
Yet  many  times  they  treacherously  betray  us, 
And  with  their  breath,  look,  tongue  or  train,  they  flay 

us, — 

He  crafty  cloaks  him  in  a  dragon's  skin 
All  bright  bespeeked,  that  speaking  so  within 
That  hollow  sackbut's  supple  wreathing  plies, 
The  mover  might  with  th'organ  sympathize. 
For  yet  the  faithless  serpent,  as  they  say, 
Crawled  not  with  horror  groveling  on  the  clay, 
Nor  to  mankind  as  yet  was  held  for  hateful, 
Since  that's  the  hire  of  his  offense  ungrateful. 

But  now,  to  censure  how  this  change  befell, 
Our  wits  come  short ;  our  words  suffice  not  well 
To  utter  it ;  much  less  our  feeble  art 
Can  imitate  this  sly,  malicious  part. 

Sometimes  meseems,  troubling  Eve's  spirit,  the  fiend 
Made  her  this  speaking  fancy  apprehend. 
For,  as  in  liquid  clouds  exhaled  thickly, 
Water  and  air,  as  moist,  do  mingle  quickly, 
The  evil  angels  slide  too  easily 
As  subtile  spirits  into  our  phantasy. 

Sometimes  meseems  she  saw — wo-worth  the  hap! — 
No  very  serpent,  but  a  serpent's  shape. 
Whether  that  Satan  played  the  juggler  there, 
Who  tender  eyes  with  charmed  tapers  blear, 
Transforming  so  by  subtile,  vapory  gleams, 
Men's  heads  to  monsters,  into  eels  the  beams, 
Or  whether,  devils  having  bodies  light, 
Quick,  nimble,  active,  apt  to  change  with  slight 
In  shapes  or  shows  they,  guileful,  have  proposed ; 
In  brief  like  th'air  whereof  they  are  composed. 


THE  IMPOSTURE.  189 

For,  as  the  air,  with  scattered  clouds  bespread, 

Is  here  and  there  black,  yellow,  white  and  red, 

Resembling  armies,  monsters,  mountains,  dragons, 

Rocks,  fiery  castles,  forests,  ships  and  wagons, 

And  such  to  us,  through  glass  transparent,  clear, 

From  form  to  form  varying,  it  doth  appear, 

So  these  seducers  can  grow  great  or  small, 

Or  round,  or  square,  or  straight,  or  short,  or  tall, 

As  fits  the  passions  they  are  moved  by, 

And  such  our  soul  receives  them  from  our  eye. 

Sometimes,  that  Satan,  only  for  this  work, 
Feigned  him  a  serpent's  shape,  wherein  to  lurk ; 
For  Nature  framing  our  soul's  enemies 
Of  bodies  light,  and  in  experience  wise, 
In  malice  crafty,  curious  they  assemble 
Small  .elements,  which  as  of  kin  resemble, 
Whereof  a  mass  is  made,  and  thereunto 
They  soon  give  ,growth  and  lively  motion,  too. 
Not  that  they  be  creators ;  for  th' Almighty — 
Who  first  of  nothing  made  vast  Amphitrite,2 
The  world's  dull  center,  heaven's  ay  turning  frame, 
And  whirling  air, — sole  merits  that  high  name; 
Who  solely  being,  being  gives  to  all, 
And  of  all  things  the  seeds  substantial 
Within  their  new-born  bodies  hath  enclosed, 
To  be  in  time  by  Nature's  hand  disposed. 

But  to  conclude,  I  think  'twas  no  conceit, 
No>  feigned  idol,  nor  no  juggling  slight, 
Nor  body  borrowed  for  this  use's  sake, 
But  the  true  serpent  which  the  Lord  did  make 
In  the  beginning.     For  his  hateful  breed 
Bears  yet  the  pain  of  this  pernicious  deed. 

Yet  'tis  a  doubt  whether  the  devil  did 
Govern  the  dragon,  not  there  selfly  hid, 
To  raise  his  courage  and  his  ton,gue  direct, 
Locally  absent,  present  by  effect ; 


2In  the  Homeric  poems  the  name  Amphitrite  was  used  as  a  general 
appellation  of  the  sea. 


190  THE  STORY  OF  ADAM. 

As  when  the  sweet  strings  of  a  lute  we  strike, 
Another  lute,  laid  near  it,  sounds  the  like — 
Nay,  the  same — note,  through  secret  sympathy, 
Untouched  receiving  life  and  harmony ; 
Or  as  a  star  which,  though  far  distant,  pours 
Upon  our  heads  hapless  or  happy  showers. 

Or  whether  for  a  time  he  did  abide 
Within  the  doubling  serpent's  damask  hide 
Holding  a  placeless  place,  as  our  soul  dear 
Through  the  dim  lantern  of  our  flesh  shines  clear, 
And,  boundless,  bounds  itself  in  so  strict  space 
As  form  in  body,  not  as  body  in  place. 

But  this  stands  sure.     However  else  it  went, 
Th'old  serpent  served  as  Satan's  instrument 
To  charm  in  Eden  with  a  strong  illusion 
Our  silly  grandam  to  herself  s  confusion. 
For  as  an  old,  rude,  rotten,  tuneless  kit, 
If  famous  Dowland  deign  to  finger  it, 
Makes  sweeter  music  than  the  choicest  lute 
In  the  gross  handling  of  a  clownish  brute ; 
So*,  while  a  learned  fiend  with  skillful  hand 
Doth  the  dull  motions  of  his  mouth  command, 
These  self-dumb  creatures'  glozing  rhetoric 
With  bashful  shame  great  orators  would  strike. 
So  fairy  trunks  within  Epirus'  grove, 
Moved  by  the  spirit  that  was  inspired  by  Jove, 
With  fluent  voice,  to  every  one  that  seeks, 
Foretell  the  fates  of  light-believing  Greeks. 
So,  all  incensed,  the  pale  engastromith,3 
Ruled  by  the  furious  spirit  he's  haunted  with, 
Speaks  in  his  womb ;  SO'  well  a  workman's  skill 
Supplies  the  want  of  any  organ  ill. 
So  the  fanatic,  lifting  up  his  thought 
On  Satan's  wing,  tells  with  a  tongue  distraught 
Strange  oracles,  and  his  sick  spirit  doth  plead 
Even  of  those  arts  that  he  did  never  read. 


3The  Greek  form  of  "ventriloquist". 


THE  IMPOSTURE.  191 

O  ruthless  murderer  of  immortal  souls ! 
Alas,  to  pull  us  from  the  happy  poles, 
And  plunge  us  headlong  in  thy  yawning  hell, — 
Thy  ceaseless  frauds  and  fetches  who  can  tell? 

Thou  play'st  the  lion  when  thou  dost  engage 
Bloodthirsty  Nero's  barbarous  heart  with  rage, 
While,  fleshed  in  murders,  butcher-like  he  paints 
The  saint-poor  world  with  the  dear  blood  of  saints. 

Thou  play'st  the  dog,  when  by  the  mouth  profane 
Of  some  false  prophet  thou  dost  belch  thy  bane, 
While  from  the  pulpit  barkingly  he  rings 
Bold  blasphemies  against  the  King  of  Kings. 

Thou  play'st  the  swine  when  plunged  in  pleasures  vile 
Some  epicure  doth  sober  minds  defile, 
Transforming  lewdly,  by  his  loose  impiety, 
Strict  Lacedaemon  to  a  soft  society. 

Thou  play'st  the  nightingale,  or  else  the  swan, 
When  any  famous  rhetorician 
With  captious  wit  and  curious  language  draws 
Seduced  hearers,  and  subverts  the  laws. 

Thou  play'st  the  fox,  when  thou  dost  feign  aright 
The  face  and  phrase  of  some  deep  hypocrite, — 
True  painted  tomb,  dead  seeming  coals  but  quick, 
A  scorpion  fell  whose  hidden  tail  doth  prick. 

Yet  this  were  little  if  thy  spite  audacious 
Spared  at  the  least  the  face  of  angels  gracious, 
And  if  thou  didst  not,  ape-like,  imitate 
Th*  Almighty's  works,  the  wariest  wits  to  mate. 

But  without  numbering  all  thy  subtle  baits, 
And  nimble  juggling  with  a  thousand  slights, 
Timely  returning  where  I  first  digressed, 
I'll  only  here  thy  first  deceit  digest. 

The  dragon  then,  man's  fortress  to  surprise,4 
Follows  a  captain's  martial  policies, 
Who,  ere  too  near  an  adverse  place  he  pitch, 
The  situation  marks,  and  sounds  the  ditch; 


4Compare  Par.  Lost,  IX,  510  et  seq. 


192  THE  STORY  OF  ADAM. 

With  his  eyes  level  the  steep  wall  he  metes, 
Surveys  the  flanks,  his  camp  in  order  sets, 
And  then  approaching,  batters  sore  the  side 
Which  art  and  nature  have  least  fortified. 
So  this  old  soldier,  having  marked  rife 
The  first  born  pair's  yet  danger-dreadless  life, 
Mounting  his  cannon,  subtly  he  assaults 
The  part  he  finds  with  evident  defaults, — 
Namely,  poor  woman,  wavering,  weak,  unwise, 
Light,  credulous,  news-lover,  given  to  lies. 

"Eve,  second  honor  of  this  universe, 
Is't  true,  I  pray,  that  jealous  God,  perverse, 
Forbids,"  quoth  he,  "both  you  and  all  your  race5 
All  the  fair  fruits  these  silver  brooks  embrace, 
So  oft  bequeathed  you,  and  by  you  possessed, 
And  day  and  night  by  your  own  labor  dressed?" 

Writh  th'air  of  these  sweet  words  the  wily  snake6 
A  poisoned  air  inspired,  as  it  spake, 
In  Eve's  frail  breast,  who  thus  replies:     "O  know, 
Whate'er  thou  be, — but  thy  kind  care  doth  show 
A  gentle  friend, — that  all  the  fruits  and  flowers7 
In  this  earth's  heaven  are  in  our  hands  and  powers, 
Except  alone  that  goodly  fruit  divine, 
Which  in  the  midst  of  this  green  .ground  doth  shine. 
But  all-good  God, — alas,  I  wot  not  why, — 
Forbade  us  touch  that  fruit  on  pain  to  die." 
She  ceased ;  already  brooding  in  her  heart 
A  curious  wish  that  will  her  weal  subvert. 

As  a  false  lover,  that  thick  snares  hath  laid 
T'entrap  the  honor  of  a  fair  young  maid, 
When  she,  though  little,  yet  some  heed  accords8 
To  his  sweet,  courting,  deep  affected  words, 
Feels  that  th'awakening  of  a  new  desire 
Will  soon  assuage  his  passion's  eager  fire ; 


BCompare  Par.  Lost,  IX,  532  and  656. 
6Compare  Par.  Lost,  IX,  625. 
7Compare  Par.  Lost,  IX,  660. 
8Compare  Par.  Lost.  IX,  667. 


THE  IMPOSTURE.  193 

And  rapt  with  joy,  upon  this  point  persists, 
That  parleying  city  never  long  resists; 
Even  so  the  serpent  that  doth  counterfeit 
A  guileful  call  to  lure  us  to  his  net, 
Perceiving  Eve  his  flattering  gloss  digest, 
He  follows  still,  and  jocund  doth  not  rest, 
Till  he  hath  tried  foot,  hand  and  head,  and  all 
Upon  the  breach  of  this  new-battered  wall. 

"No,  fair,"  quoth  he,  "believe  not  that  the  care 
God  hath,  mankind  from  spoiling  death  to  spare, 
Makes  Him  forbid  you  on  so  strict  condition 
This  purest,  fairest,  rarest  fruit's  fruition. 
A  doubtful  fear,  an  envy  and  a  hate 
His  jealous  heart  forever  cruciate.9 
Since  the  suspected  virtue  of  this  tree 
Shall  soon  disperse  the  cloud  of  idiocy10 
Which  dims  your  eyes ;  and,  further,  make  you  seem, 
Excelling  us,  even  equal  gods  to  Him. 
O  world's  rare  glory !  reach  thy  happy  hand ! 
Reach,  reach,  I  say;  why  dost  thou  stop  or  stand? 
Begin  thy  bliss,  and  do  not  fear  the  threat 
Of  an  uncertain  godhead,  only  great 
Through  self-awed  zeal ;  put  on  the  glistering  pall 
Of  immortality.     Do  not  forestall, 
As  envious  step-dame,  thy  posterity 
The  sovereign  honor  of  divinity." 

The  parley  ended,  our  ambitious  grandam, 
Who  yet  did  only  eye  and  heart  abandon 
Against  the  Lord,  now  further  doth  proceed, 
And  hand  to  mouth  makes  guilty  of  the  deed. 

A  novice  thief  that  in  a  closet  spies 
A  heap  of  gold  that  on  a  table  lies, 
Pale,  fearful,  shivering,  twice  or  thrice  extends11 
And  twice  or  thrice  withdraws  his  fingers'  ends, 


sCompare  Par.  Lost,  IX,  729. 

I0"ldiocy"  and  "idiot"  in  the  Divine  Weeks  always  refer  to  lack  of 
trained  knowledge,  and  not  to  lack  of  intellectual  power. 
HThe  punishment  for  larceny  was  death. 


194  THE  STORY  OP  ADAM. 

And  yet  again  returns ;  the  booty  takes, 

And  faintly  bold,  up  in  his  cloak  it  makes, 

Scarce  finds  the  door;  with  faltering  feet  he  flies 

And  still  looks  back  for  fear  of  hue-and-cries.12 

Even  so  doth  Eve  show,  by  like  fearful  fashions, 

The  doubtful  combat  of  contending  passions. 

She  would ;  she  would  not ;  glad ;  sad ;  comes  and  goes, 

And  long  she  marts  about  a  match  of  woes; 

But,  out,  alas!  at  last  she  toucheth  it 

And  having  touched,  tastes  the  forbidden  bit. 

Then  as  a  man  that  from  a  lofty  cliff 
Or  steepy  mountain  doth  descend  too  swift, 
Stumbling  at  somewhat,  quickly  clips13  a  limb 
Of  his  dear  kinsman,  walking  next  to  him, 
And  by  his  headlong  fall  so  brings  his  friend 
To  an  untimely,  sad  and  sudden  end, 
Our  mother,  falling,  hales  her  spouse  anon 
Down  to<  the  gulf  of  pitchy  Acheron. 
For,  to  the  wished  fruit's  beautiful  aspect, 
Sweet,  nectary  taste  and  wonderful  effect, 
Cunningly  adding  her  quaint,  smiling  glances, 
Her  witty  speech  and  pretty  countenances, 
She  so  prevails  that  her  blind  lord  at  last 
A  morsel  of  the  sharp-sweet  fruit  doth  taste.      ... 

Now  the  sad  soul  hath  lost  the  character 
And  sacred  image  that  did  honor  her; 
The  wretched  body,  full  of  shame  and  sorrow 
To  see  its  nakedness,  is  forced  to  borrow 
A  tree's  broad  leaves,  whereof  they  aprons  frame, 
From  Heaven's  fair  eye  to  hide  their  new  found  shame. 

Alas,  fond14  deathlings,  O  behold,  how  clear 
The  knowledge  is  that  you  have  bought  so  dear. 
In  heavenly  things  ye  are  more  blind  than  moles, 
In  earthly  more  than  owls.     Ye  silly  souls, 
Think  ye  the  sight  that  through  earth's  solid  centers, 
As  globes  of  pure,  transparent  crystals  enters, 


l2"Hu-on  cries"  in  the  quartos  and  folios. 

l3See  note  18,  Day  1,  ante. 

HFoolish — as  in  Shakespeare,  passim. 


THE  IMPOSTURE.  195 

Cannot  transpierce  your  leaves,  or  do  ye  ween 
Covering  your  shame,  so  to  conceal  your  sin? 
Or  that  a  part  thus  clouded,  all  doth  lie 
Safe  from  the  search  of  Heaven's  all-seeing  eye? 

Thus  yet,  man's  troubled,  dull  intelligence 
Had  of  his  fault  but  a  confused  sense ; 
As  in  a  dream  after  much  drink,  it  chances 
Disturbed  spirits  are  vexed  with  raving  fancies. 

Therefore  the  Lord,  within  the  garden  fair 
Moving  betimes, — I  wot  not,  I,  what  air, 
But  supernatural,  whose  breath  divine 
Brings  of  His  presence  a  most  certain  sign, — 
Awakes  their  lethargy,  and  to  the  quick 
Their  self-doomed  souls  doth  sharply  press  and  prick, 
Now  more  and  more  making  their  pride  to  fear 
The  frowning  visage  of  their  Judge  severe, 
To  seek  new  refuge  in  more  secret  harbors 
Among  the  dark  shades  of  those  tufting  arbors.15 

"Adam !"  quoth  God,  with  thundering  majesty ; 
"Where  art  thou,  wretch?     What  dost  thou?     Answer 

me, 

Thy  God  and  Father,  from  whose  hand  thy  health 
Thou  holdst, — thine  honor,  and  all  forms  of  wealth !" 

At  this  sad  summons,  woeful  man  resembles 
A  bearded  rush  that  in  a  river  trembles. 
His  rosy  cheeks  are  turned  to  earthy  hue; 
His  fainting  body  drops  an  icy  dew ; 
His  tear-drowned  eyes  a  night  of  clouds  bedims ; 
About  his  ears  a  buzzing  horror  swims ; 
His  weakened  knees  with  feebleness  are  humble; 
His  faltering  feet  do  hide  away  and  stumble ; 
He  hath  not  now  his  free,  bold,  stately  port, 
But  downcast  looks,  in  fearful,  slavish  sort. 
Now  naught  of  Adam  doth  in  Adam  rest ; 
He  feels  his  senses  pained,  his  soul  oppressed, 
A  confused  host  of  violent  passions  jar; 
His  flesh  and  spirit  are  in  continual  war, 


iSCompare  Par.  Lost,  X,  100. 


196  THE  STORY  OF  ADAM. 

And  now  no  more,  through  conscience16  of  his  error, 
He  sees  or  hears  th' Almighty  but  with  terror ; 
And  loth  he  answers,  as  with  tongue  distraught, 
Confessing  thus  his  fear,  but  not  his  fault : 

"O  Lord !     Thy  voice,  Thy  dreadful  voice  hath  made 
Me,  fearful,  hide  me  in  this  covert  shade;17 
For,  naked  as  I  am,  O  Most  of  Might ! 
I  dare  not  come  within  Thine  awful  sight." 

"Naked?"  quoth  God;  "why,  faithless  renegate, — 
Apostate  pagan  ! — who  hath  told  thee  that? 
Whence  springs  thy  shame?     What  makes  thee  thus  to 

run 

From  shade  to  shade,  my  presence  thus  to  shun? 
Hast  thou  not  tasted  of  the  learned  tree 
Whereof,  on  pain  of  death,  I  warned  thee?" 

"O  righteous  God,"  quoth  Adam,  "I  am  free 
From  this  offense.     The  wife  Thou  gavest  me 
For  my  companion  and  my  comforter, — 
She  made  me  eat  the  deadly  meat  with  her." 

"And  thou,"   quoth   God,   "O   frail  and  treacherous 

bride, 
Why  with  thyself  hast  thou  seduced  thy  guide?" 

"Lord,"  answers  Eve,  "the  serpent  did  entice 
My  simple  frailty  to  this  sinful  vice." 

Mark  here,  how  He,  who  fears  not  who  reform 
His  high  decrees, — not  subject  unto  form 
Or  style  of  court, — who,  all-wise,  hath  no  need 
T"  examine  proof  or  witness  of  the  deed ; 
Who,  for  sustaining  of  unequal  scale 
Dreads  not  the  doom  of  a  mercurial, 
Ere  sentence  pass  doth  publicly  convent,18 
Confront,  and  hear  with  ear  indifferent19 
Th'offenders  sad;  then,  with  just  indignation 
Pronounced  thus  their  dreadful  condemnation : 


l6"Conscience"  in  the  sense  of  "consciousness"  is  a  common  Shakes- 
pearean use,  as  in  Hamlet's  soliloquy  on  Death. 
iTSee  Par.  Lost,  X,  116. 
i8"Convent"  for  convene. 
I9"lndifferent"  has  the  meaning  of  "impartial". 


THE  IMPOSTURE.  197 

"Ah,  cursed  serpent !  which  my  fingers  made 
To  serve  mankind, — thou'st  made  thyself  a  blade 
Wherein  vain  man,  and  his  inveigled  wife, 
Self-parricides,   have  reft   their  proper  life, — 
For  this,  thy  fault,  true  fountain  of  all  ill, 
Thou  shalt  be  hateful  'mong  all  creatures  still. 
Groveling  in  dust,  of  dust  thou  ay  shalt  feed; 
I'll  kindle  war  between  the  woman's  seed 
And  thy  fell  race ;  hers  on  the  head  shall  ding 
Thine,  thine  again  hers  in  the  heel  shall  sting. 

"Rebel  to  me!  unto  thy  kindred  curst! 
False  to  thy  husband  !  to  thyself  the  worst ! 
Hope  not  thy  fruit  so  eas'ly  to  bring  forth 
As  now  thou  slay'st  it.     Henceforth  every  birth 
Shall  torture  thee  with  thousand  sorts  of  pain;      .     .     . 
Under  his  yoke  thy  husband  shall  thee  have, — 
Tyrant, — by  thee  made  the  arch-tyrant's  slave. 

"And  thou,  disloyal,  who  hast  hearkened  more 
To  a  wanton  fondling  than  my  sacred  lore, — 
Henceforth  the  sweat  shall  bubble  on  thy  brow ; 
Thy  hands  shall  blister  and  thy  back  shall  bow; 
Ne'er  shalt  thou  send  into  thy  branched  veins 
A  bit  not  bought  with  price  of  thousand  pains; 
For  the  earth  feeling,  even  in  her,  th'effect 
Of  the  doom  thundered  'gainst  thy  foul  defect, 
Instead  of  sweet  fruit  which  she  selfly  yields 
Seedless  and  artless,  over  all  thy  fields, 
With  thorns  and  burrs  shall  bristle  up  her  breast ; 
In  short,  thou  shalt  not  taste  the  sweets  of  rest 
Till  ruthless  Death,  by  his  extremest  pain, 
Thy  dust-born  body  turn  to  dust  again." 

Here  I  conceive  that  flesh  and  blood  will  brangle, 
And  murmuring  reason  with  th'Almighty  wrangle, 
Who  did  our  parents  with  free-will  indue, 
Though  He  foresaw  that  that  would  be  the  clew 
Should  lead  their  steps  into  the  woful  way 
Where  life  is  death  ten  thousand  times  a  day. 
Now  all  that  He  foresees  befalls;  and  further, 
He  all  events  by  His  free  power  doth  order. 


198  THE  STORY  OF  ADAM. 

Man  taxeth  God  of  an  unjust  severity, 
For  plaguing  Adam's  sin  in  his  posterity, 
So  that  th'old  years'  renewed  generations 
Cannot  assuage  His  venging  indignations, 
Which  have  no  other  ground  to  prosecute20 
But  the  mis-eating  of  a  certain  fruit. 

O  dusty  wormling,  dar'st  thou  strive  and  stand 
With   heaven's    high    Monarch?      Wilt    thou,    wretch. 

demand 

Count  of  His  deeds?     Ah,  shall  the  potter  make 
His  clay  such  fashion  as  him  list  to  make, 
And  shall  not  God,  world's  Founder,  nature's  Father, 
Dispose  of  man,  His  own  mere  creature,  rather? 
The  supreme  King,  who,  Judge  of  greatest  kings, 
By  number,  weight  and  measure,  sets  all  things, — 
Vice-loathing  Lord,  pure  Justice,  Patron  strong, 
Law's  Life,  right's  Rule, — will  He  do  any  wrong? 

Man,  holdest  thou  of  God  thy  frank  free-will 
But  free  t'obey  His  sacred  goodness  still, — 
Freely  to  follow  Him  and  do  His  hest, 
Not  philter-charmed,  nor  by  Busiris21  pressed. 
God  arms  thee  with  discourse,  but  thou,  O  wretch, 
By  the  keen  edge  the  wound-soul  sword  dost  catch, 
Killing  thyself,  and  in  thy  loins  thy  line, 
O  baneful  spider,  weaving  woful  twine ! 
All  Heaven's  pure  flowers  thou  turnest  into  poison. 
Thy  sense  'reaves  sense ;  thy  reason  robs  thy  reason ; 
For  thou  complainest  of  God's  grace,  whose  still22 
Extracts  from  dross  of  thine  audacious  ill 
Three  unexpected  goods;  praise  for  His  name; 
Bliss  for  thyself;  for  Satan  endless  shame. 
Since  but  for  sin  Justice  and  Mercy  were 
But  idle  names;  and  but  that  thou  didst  err, 


20"prosecute"  has  its  original  signification  of  "follow". 

2iBusiris  was  king  of  Egypt  and  a  son  of  Neptune.  His  habit  of 
inducing  strangers  to  visit  his  altars  where  they  were  offered  up  as 
sacrifices  was  his  own  undoing  when  he  tried  the  scheme  with  Her- 
cules, as  that  hero  promptly  slew  him. 

22"StiH"  is  a  noun,  subject  of  the  verb,  "extracts". 


THE  IMPOSTURE.  199 

Christ  had  not  come  to  conquer  and  to  quell, 

Upon  the  cross,  Sin,  Satan,  Death  and  Hell ; 

Making  thee  blessed  more  since  thine  offense, 

Than  in  thy  primer,  happy  innocence. 

Then,   might'st   thou   die;   now,   death   thou   dost   not 

doubt ; 

Now,  in  the  heaven ;  then  didst  thou  ride  without. 
In  earth  thou  liv'dst  then ;  now  in  heaven  thou  be'st ; 
Then  thou  didst  hear  God's  word;  now  it  thou  seest. 
Then  pleasant  fruits ;  now  Christ  is  the  repast ; 
Then  might'st  thou  fall,  but  now  thou  standest  fast. 

Now  Adam's  fall  was  not,  indeed,  so  light 
As  seems  to  reason's  sin-bleared,  owly  sight; 
But  'twas  a  chain  where  all  the  greatest  sins 
Were  one  in  other  linked  fast  as  twins. 
Ingratitude,  pride,  treason,  gluttony, 
Too  curious  skill,  thirst,  envy,  felony, 
Too  light,  too  late  belief,  were  the  sweet  baits 
That  made  him  wander  from  Heaven's  holy  straits. 

What  wouldst  thou,  father,  say  unto  a  son 
Of  perfect  age,  to  whom,  for  portion, 
Witting  and  willing,  while  thyself  yet  livest, 
All  thy  possessions  in  the  earth  thou  givest, 
And  yet  th'ungrateful,  graceless  insolent 
In  thine  own  land  rebellion  doth  invent. 
Map  thou  an  Adam  in  thy  memory, 
By  God's  own  hand  made  with  great  majesty, 
Not  poor  nor  pined,23  but  at  whose  command 
The  rich  abundance  of  the  world  doth  stand ; 
Not  slave  to  sense,  but  having  freely  might 
To  bridle  it,  and  range  it  still  aright; 
No  idiot  fool,  nor  drunk  with  vain  opinion, 
But  God's  disciple  and  His  dearest  minion, 
Who  rashly  grows,  for  little — nay  for  naught, — 
His  deadly  foe  that  all  his  good  had  wrought. 

So  may'stthou  guess  what  whip,  what  rope,  what  rack. 
What  fire  were  fit  to  punish  Adam's  lack. 


23"Pine"  is  in  this  volume  synonymous  with  "famish". 


200  THE  STORY  OF  ADAM. 

Then,  since  man's  sin  by  little  and  little  runs 
Endless,  through  every  age  from  sires  to  sons ; 
And  still  the  farther  this  foul  sin-spring  flows 
It  still  more  muddy,  and  more  filthy  grows, 
Thou  ought'st  not  marvel  if  even  yet  his  seed 
Feel  the  just  wages  of  this  wicked  deed. 
For,  though  the  keen  sting  of  concupiscence 
Cannot,  ere  birth,  its  fell  effect  commence, 
The  unborn  babe,  hid  in  the  mother's  womb, 
Is  sorrow's  servant,  and  sin's  servile  groom ; 
As  a  frail  mote,  from  the  first  mass  extract, 
Which  Adam  baned  by  his  rebellious  act. 
Sound  offspring  comes  not  of  a  kind  infected. 
Parts  are  not  fair  if  totals  be  defected. 

While  night's  black  muffler  hoodeth  up  the  skies, 
The  silly  blind  man  misseth  not  his  eyes ; 
But  when  the  day  summons  to  work  again, 
Of  his  unending  night  he  doth  complain, 
That  he  goes  groping,  and  his  hand,  alas, 
Is  fain  to  guide  his  foot  and  guard  his  face. 
So  man  that  liveth  in  the  womb's  obscurity 
Knows  not  nor  maketh  known  his  lust's  impurity; 
Which,  for  'tis  sown  in  a  too  plenteous  ground, 
Takes  root  already  in  the  caves  profound 
Of  his  infected  heart.     With's  birth  it  peers, 
And  grows  in  strength  as  he  doth  grow  in  years ; 
And,  waxed  a  tree,  though  pruned  with  thousand  cares, 
An  execrable,  deadly  fruit  it  bears. 

Thou  seest  no  wheat  can  helleborus  bring, 
Nor  barley  from  the  madding  morel  spring, 
And  bleating  lambs  brave  lions  do  not  breed, 
And  leprous  parents  raise  a  leprous  seed. 
Even  so  our  grandsire,  living  innocent, 
Had  stocked  the  whole  world  with  a  saint  descent, 
But  suffering  sin  in  Eden  him  t'invade, 
His  sons  the  sons  of  sin  and  wrath  he  made. 
For  God  did  seem  t'endow  with  glory  and  grace 
Not  the  first  man  so  much  as  all  the  race ; 
And  after  'reave  again  those  gifts  divine, 


THE  IMPOSTURE.  201 

Not  him  so  much  as,  in  him,  all  his  line. 

For,  if  an  odious  traitor  that  conspires 
Against  a  prince,  or  to  his  state  aspires, 
Feel  not  alone  the  law's  extremity, 
But  his  sons'  sons,  although  sometimes  they  be 
Honest  and  virtuous,  for  their  father's  blame 
Are  hapless  scarred  with  an  eternal  shame; 
May  not  th'Eternal,  with  a  righteous  terror, 
In  Adam's  issue  punish  Adam's  error? 
May  He  not  thrall  them  under  Death's  command, 
And  scar  their  brows  with  everlasting  brand 
Of  infamy,  who  in  His  stock,  accurst, 
Have  graft  worse  slips  than  Adam  set  at  first? 

Man's  seed  then,  justly,  by  a  due  succession, 
Bears  the  hard  penance  of  his  high  transgression ; 
And  Adam  here,  from  Eden  banished, 
As  first  offender,  is  first  punished. 

"Hence  !"  quoth  the  Lord ;  "hence  !  hence  !  accursed 

race, 

Out  of  my  garden !  quick,  avoid  the  place, — 
This  beauteous  place,  pride  of  this  universe, — 
A  house  unworthy  masters  so  perverse!" 

Those  that  in  quarrel  of  the  strong  of  strongs,24 
And  just  revenge  of  queen  and  country's  wrongs, 
Were  witnesses  to  all  the  woful  plaints, 
The  sighs  and  tears,  and  pitiful  complaints 
Of  braving  Spaniards — chiefly  brave  in  word, — 
When,  by  the  valiant,  heaven-assisted  sword 
Of  Mars-like  Essex,  England's  marshal-earl, 
(Then  Albion's  patron  and  Eliza's  pearl,) 
They  were  expelled  from  Cad'z,  their  dearest  pleasure, 
Losing  their  town,  their  honor  and  their  treasure, — 
"Wo-worth,"  said  they,  "wo-worth25  our  king's  ambi- 
tion! 


24These  two  score  lines  of  Sylvester's  interpolation  have  a  value  as 
being  illustrative  of  the  feeling  of  England  towards  Spain  in  the  1590's, 
although  not  material  to  the  subject  in  hand. 

25"Wo-worth"  is  used  by  Spenser  and  by  the  author  of  Piers  Plow- 
man's Crede  long  before.  The  second  syllable  is  from  the  Anglo  Saxon 
"wurdhan",  and  is  the  same  as  the  German  "werden". 


202  THE  STORY  OF  ADAM. 

Wo-worth  o-ur  clergy  and  their  inquisition ! 

He  seeks  new  kingdoms,  and  doth  lose  his  old. 

They  burn  for  conscience,  but  their  thirst's  for  gold. 

Woe  and  alas !     Woe  to  the  vain  bravados 

Of  Typhon-like  'invincible  armados' 

Which,  like  the  vaunting  monster  man  of  Gath 

Have  stirred  against  us  little  David's  wrath. 

Wo-worth  our  sins ;  wo-worth  ourselves,  and  all 

Accursed  causes  of  our  sudden  fall." 

Those  well  may  guess  the  bitter  agonies 

And  luke-warm  rivers,  gushing  from  the  eyes, 

Of  our  first  parents,  out  of  Eden  driven, 

Of  repeal  hopeless,  by  the  hand  of  Heaven. 

For  the  Almighty  set  before  the  door 
Of  th'holy  park  a  seraphin  who  bore 
A  waving  sword,  whose  body  shined  bright, 
Like  flaming  comet  in  the  depth  of  night, — 
A  body  merely  metaphysical 
Which,  differing  little  from  th'One  Unical, 
Th'Act  simply  pure,  the  only  being  Being, 
Approacheth  matter.     Ne'ertheless,  not  being 
Of  matter  mixed ;  or  rather  is  so  made 
So  merely  spirit  that  not  the  murdering  blade 
His  joined  quantity  can  part  in  two ; 
For,  pure,  it  cannot  suffer  aught,  but  do.26 


26Compare  Par.  Lost.  VI,  330-353. 


THE  FURIES 


This  is  not  th'world!     O  whither  am  I  brought? 
This  earth  I  tread — this  hollow  hanging  vault — 
Which  days  reducing,  and  renewing  nights, 
Renews  the  grief  of  mine  afflicted  sprites. 
The  sea  I  sail,  this  troubled  air  I  sip, 
Are  not  the  first  week's  glorious  workmanship. 
This  wretched  round  is  not  the  goodly  globe 
Th'Eternal  trimmed  in  so  various  robe; 
Tis  but  a  dungeon  and  a  dreadful  cave, — 
Of  that  first  world  the  miserable  grave. 

All  quickening  Spirit !  great  God,  that,  justly  strange, 
Judge-turned-Father,1  wrought'st  this  wondrous  change, 
Change  and  new-mould  me,  Lord ;  my  hand  assist, 
That  in  my  muse  appear  no  earthly  mist. 
Make  me  thine  organ.     Give  my  voice  dexterity 
Sadly2  to  sing  this  sad  change  to  posterity. 

And,  bounteous  Giver  of  each  perfect  gift,3 
So  tune  my  voice  to  his  sweet  sacred  clef, 
That  in  each  strain  my  rude,  unready  tongue4 
Be  lively  echo  of  his  learned  song, 
And  henceforth  let  our  holy  music  ravish 


Hn  "Building  the  World"  some  effort  was  made  to  avoid  reproducing 
the  queer  compounds  and  harsh  combinations  of  consonants  in  which 
the  poet  occasionally  indulged.  In  "Adam"  the  editor  has  endeavored 
to  give  the  verses  (except  as  to  spelling  and  punctuation)  as  nearly 
as  possible  in  just  the  shape  in  which  they  were  written.  A  few 
elisions  have  seemed  imperative,  but  they  are  very  few.  In  the 
present  instance  "Judge-turned  Father"  means  Father  turned  to 
Judge. 

2Meaning  seriously;  as  in  the  old  observation  about  the  English 
taking  their  pastimes  sadly. 

3The  translator  here  speaks  for  himself  through  two  dozen  lines. 

4"Unready"  seems  to  be  used  in  its  old  sense  of  "unlearned". 


204  THE  STORY  OF  ADAM. 

All  well-born  souls  from  fancies  lewdly  lavish ; 
Of  charming  sin  the  deep  enchanting  sirens, 
The  snares  of  virtue,  valor-softening  hyrens,5 
That,  touched  with  terror  of  Thine  indignation, 
Presented  in  this  woful  alteration, 
We  all  may  seek,  by  prayer  and  true  repentance. 
To  shun  the  rigor  of  Thy  wrathful  sentence. 
But,  ere  we  farther  pass,  our  slender  bark 
Must  here  strike  topsails  to  a  princely  ark,6 
Which  keeps  these  straits.     He  hails  us  threatfully : 
Starboard  our  helm !     Come  underneath  his  lee ! 
"Ho!  whence  your  bark?"     "Of  Zealland."     "Whither 

bound?" 
"For  Virtue  cape."      "What  lading?"    "Hope."     "This 

sound 

You  should  not  pass,  save  that  your  voyage  tends 
To  benefit  our  neighbors  and  our  friends." 
"Thanks,  kingly  captain.      Deign  us,  then,  we  pray, 
Some  skillful  pilot  through  this  furious  bay, 
Or,  in  this  channel,  since  we  are  to  learn, 
Vouchsafe  to  tow  us  at  your  royal  stern." 

Ere  that  our  sire,  O  too,  too  proudly  base, 
Turned  tail  to  God  and  to  the  fiend  his  face, 
This  mighty  world  did  seem  an  instrument 
True  strung,  well  tuned,  and  handled  excellent, 
Whose  symphony  resounded  sweetly  shrill 
Th'Almighty's  praise,  who  played  upon  it  still. 
While  man   served  God,   the  world  served  him.     The 

live 

And  lifeless  creatures  seemed  all  to  strive 
To  nurse  this  league,  and  loving  zealously, 
These  two  dear  heads  embraced  mutually 


5Corruption  of  the  Greek  "Irene",  (the  name  of  a  favorite  of  Sultan 
Mohammed  II)  and  used  to  designate  a  class  of  women,  as  "Abigail" 
is  used  to  indicate  another  class.  See  2  King  Henry  IV,  II,  4. 

BBefore  the  accession  of  James  I  to  the  English  throne  he  had  posed 
as  a  man  of  letters,  and  among  other  worthless  productions  had  trans- 
lated The  Furies,  Urania  and  a  few  others  of  Du  BaTtas's  works,  of 
which  Sylvester  thought  best  to  make  recognition,  and  did  so  in  an 
awkward  fashion  in  these  lines. 


THE  FURIES.  205 

In  sweet  accord,  the  base  with  high  rejoiced, 
The  hot  with  cold,  the  solid  with  the  moist; 
And  innocent  Astraea  did  combine 
All  with  the  mastick  of  a  love  divine. 

For  th'hidden  love  that  nowadays  doth  hold 
The  steel  and  loadstone,  hydrargire  and  gold, 
Th'amber  and  straw;  that  lodgeth  in  one  shell 
P'earlfish  and  sharpling,  and  unites  so  well 
Sargons7  and  goats,  the  sparage8  and  the  rush, 
Th'elm  and  the  vine,  th'olive  and  myrtle  bush, 
Is  but  a  spark  or  shadow  of  that  love 
Which  at  the  first  in  everything  did  move, 
Whenas  the  earth's  muses  with  harmonious  sound 
To  heaven's  sweet  music  humbly  did  resound. 
But  Adam,  being  chief  of  all  the  strings 
Of  this  large  lute,  o'er  retched,9  quickly  brings 
All  out  of  tune,  and  now,  for  melody 
Of  warbling  charms,  it  yells  so  hideously 
That  it  affrights  fell  Enyo,10  who'  turmoils 
To  raise  again  th'old  Chaos'  antique  broils. 

Heaven,  that  still  smiling  on  his  paramour,11 
Still  in  her  lap  did  mel  and  manna  pour, 
Now  with  his  hail,  his  rain,  his  frost  and  heat, 
Doth  parch  and  pinch,  and  overwhelm  and  beat, 
And  hoars  her  head  with  snows,  and  jealous  dashes 
Against  her  brows  his  fiery  lightning  flashes. 
On  th'other  side  the  sullen,  envious  earth, 
From  blackest  cells  of  her  foul  breast,  sends  forth 
A  thousand  foggy  fumes,  which,  everywhere, 
With  cloudy  mists  heaven's  crystal  front  besmear. 

Since  that  the  wolf  the  trembling  sheep  pursues, 
The  crowing  cock  the  lion  stout  eschews, 
The  pullein  hide  them  from  the  puttocks'  flight,12 


TDuBartas  believed  the  story  of  a  fish  called  Sargon,  which  was 
said  to  leave  the  sea  to  foregather  with  goats. 

8The  asparagus  is  indigenous  on  sea  shores. 

9Stretched  too  tightly. 

lOEnyo  was  the  Greek  goddess  corresponding  to  the  Roman  Bellona. 

iiParamour — the  earth. 

i2Though  pullein  and  puttock  seem  strange  now,  they  were  familiar 
English  in  1600  for  "poultry"  and  "sparrow-hawk"  respectively. 


206  THE  STORY  OF  ADAM. 

The  mastiff's  mute  at  the  hyena's  sight, — 

Yea,  who  would  think  it?    these  fell  enmities 

Rage  in  the  senseless  trunks  of  plants  and  trees. 

The  vine  the  cole,  the  cole-wort  swine's-bread  dreads, 

The  fern  abhors  the  hollow  waving  reeds, 

The  olive  and  the  oak  participate 

Even  to  their  earth,  signs  of  their  ancient  hate, 

Which  suffers  not — O  dateless  discord ! — th'one 

Live  in  that  ground  where  th'other  first  hath  grown. 

O  strange  instinct !     O  deep,  immortal  rage ! 

Whose  fiery  feud  no  Lethe  flood  can  'suage. 

The  first-moved  heaven  in  'tself  itself  still  stirring, 
Rapts  with  its  course,  quicker  than  wind's  swift  whir- 
ring, 

All  th'other  spheres,  and  to  Alcides'  spires13 
From  Alexander's  altars  drives  their  fires. 
But  mortal  Adam,  monarch  here  beneath, 
Erring  draws  all  into  the  paths  of  death, 
And  on  rough  seas,  as  a  blind  pilot  rash, 
Against  the  rock  of  heaven's  just  wrath  doth  dash 
The  world's  great  vessel,  sailing  erst  at  ease, 
With  gentle  gales,  good  guide,  on  quiet  seas. 

For,  ere  his  fall,  which  way  soe'er  he  rolled 
His  wondering  eyes,  God  everywhere  behold; 
In  heaven,  in  earth,  in  ocean  and  in  air, 
He  sees  and  feels  and  finds  Him  everywhere. 
The  world  was  like  a  large  and  sumptuous  shop, 
Where  God  His  goodly  treasures  did  unwrap, 
Or  crystal  glass,  most  lively  representing 
His  sacred  goodness  everywhere   frequenting. 

But  since  his  sin,  the  woeful  wretch  finds  none 
Herb,  garden,  grove,  field,  fountain,  stream  or  stone, 
Beast,  mountain,  valley,  sea-gate,  shore  or  heaven, 
But  bears  his  death's  doom  openly  engraven. 
In  brief,  the  whole  scope  this  round  center  hath, 
Is  true  store-house  of  Heaven's  righteous  wrath. 


l3Alexander's  altars"  were  at  the  foot  of  the  Rhipean  mountains, 
supposed  to  be  a  western  branch  of  the  Urals.  "Alcides'  spires"  of 
course  means  the  Pillars  of  Hercules,  at  Gibraltar. 


THE  FURIES.  207 

Rebellious  Adam,  from  his  God  revolting, 
Finds  his  erst  subjects  'gainst  himself  insulting; 
The  tumbling  sea,  the  air  with  tempests  driven, 
Thorn-bristled  earth,  the  sad  and  lowering  heaven, 
(As  from  the  oath  of  their  allegiance  free,) 
Revenge  on  him  th'Almighty's  injury. 

The  stars  conjured,14  through  envious  influence, 
By  secret  hangmen  punish  this  offense ; 
The  sun  with  heat,  the  moon  with  cold  doth  vex  him, 
Th'air  with  unlooked-for,  sudden  changes  checks  him 
With  fogs  and  frosts,  hails,  snows,  and  sulphury  thun- 
ders, 
Blasting  and  storms,  and  more  prodigious  wonders. 

Fire  fallen  from  heaven,  or  else  by  art  incited, 
Or  by  mischance  in  some  rich  building  lighted, 
Or  from  some  mountain's  burning  bowels  thrown, 
Replete  with  sulphur,  pitch,  and  pumice  stone, 
With  sparkling  fury  spreads,  and  in  few  hours 
The  labor  of  a  thousand  years  devours. 

The  greedy  ocean,  breaking  wonted  bounds, 
Usurps  his  herds,  his  wealthy  isles,  and  towns. 
The  grieved  earth,  to  ease  her  as  it  seems 
Of  such  profane,  accursed  weight,  sometimes 
Swallows  whole  countries,  and  the  airy  tops 
Of  prince-proud  towers  in  her  black  womb  she  wraps ; 
And  in  despite  of  him,  abhorred  and  hateful, 
She  many  ways  proves  barren  and  ungrateful, 
Mocking  our  hopes,  turning  our  seed-wheat  kernel 
To  burn-grain  thistle,  and  to  vapory  darnel, 
Cockle,  wild  oats,  rough  burrs,  corn-cumbering  tares, — 
Short  recompense  for  all  our  costly  cares. 

Yet  this  were  little  if  she,  more  malicious, 
Fell  stepdame,  brought  us  not  plants  more  pernicious; 
As  sable  henbane,  morel,  making  mad, 
Cold,  poisoning  poppy,  itching,  drowsy,  sad ; 
The  stif'ning  carpese,15  th'eye's  foe,  hemlock  stinking, 


HSworn  to  mutual  support;  covenanted. 
iSGarpesium  is  a  southern  European  shrub. 


208  THE  STORY  OF  ADAM. 

Limb-numbing,    belching;   and   the   sinew-shrinking, 

Dead-laughing  apium,  weeping  aconite, 

Which,  in  our  vulgar,  deadly  wolf's  bane  hight, 

The  dropsy-breeding,  sorrow-bringing  sylly,16 

(Here  called  flea-wort),  Colchis'  baneful  lily, 

(With  us  wild  saffron,)  blistering,  biting,  fell ; 

Hot  napell,17  making  lips  and  tongue  to  swell, 

Blood-boiling  yew,  and  costive  misletoe, 

With  ice-cold  mandrake,  and  a  many  mo 

Such  fatal  plants,  whose  fruit,  seed,  sap  or  root, 

T'untimely  grave  do  bring  our  heedless  foot. 

Besides,  she  knows  we,  brutish,  value  more 
Than  lives  or  honors  her  rich  glittering  ore, 
That  avarice  our  boundless  thought  still  vexes ; 
Therefore  among  her  wreakful  baits  she  mixes 
Quicksilver,  lithargy,  and  orpiment. 
Wherewith  our  entrails  are  oft  gnawn  and  rent, 
So  that  sometimes  for  body  and  for  mind, 
Torture  and  torment  in  one  mind  we  find. 

What  resteth  more?     The  masters  skillful  most, 
With  gentle  gales  driven  to  their  wished  coast, 
Not  with  less  labor  guide  their  winged  wains 
On  th'azure  forehead  of  the  liquid  plains; 
Nor  crafty  jugglers  can  more  easily  make 
Their  self-lived  puppets,  for  their  lucre's  sake, 
To  skip  and  scud,  and  play  and  prate  and  prance, 
And  fight  and  fall,  and  trip  and  turn,  and  dance; 
Then,  happy,  we  did  rule  the  scaly  legions 
That  dumbly  dwell  in  stormy  water  regions ; 
Then  feathered  singers,  and  the  stubborn  droves 
That  haunt  the  deserts,  and  the  shady  groves. 
At  every  word  they  trembled  then  for  awe, 
And  every  wink  then  served  them  as  a  law, 
And,  always  bent  all  duty  to  observe, 
Without  command  stood  ready  still  to  serve. 

But  now,  alas,  through  our  fond  parents'  fall, 
They  of  our  slaves  are  grown  our  tyrants  all. 


l6Psylly,  or  flea-wort,  is  the  inula  coryza. 
iTNapell — the  bitter  vetch;  lathyrus  macorrhizus. 


THE  FURIES.  209 

Wend  we  by  sea,  the  dread  leviathan 

Turns  upside  down  the  boiling  ocean, 

And  on  the  sudden  sadly  doth  entomb 

Our  floating  castles18  in  deep  Thetis'  womb. 

Erst  in  the  welkin  like  an  eagle  towering, 

And  on  the  water  like  a  dolphin  scouring, 

Walk  we  by  land,  how  many  loathsome  swarms 

Of  speckled  poisons  with  pestiferous  arms 

In  every  corner  in  close  ambush  lurk, 

With  secret  bands  our  sudden  banes  to  work. 

Besides  the  lion  and  the  leopard, 

Boar,  bear,  and  wolf,  to  death  pursue  us  hard, 

And  jealous  vengers  of  the  wrongs  divine 

In  pieces  pull  their  sovereign's  sinful  line. 

The  huge  thick  forests  have  not  bush  nor  brake, 

But  hides  some  hangman,  our  loathed  life  to  take; 

In  every  hedge  and  ditch  both  day  and  night 

We  fear  our  death,  of  every  leaf  affright. 

Rest  we  at  home,  the  mastiff  fierce  in  force, 

Th'untamed  bull,  the  hot,  courageous,  horse, 

With  teeth,  with  horns  and  hoofs,  besiege  us  round, 

As  grieved  to  see  such  tyrants  tread  the  ground; 

And  there's  no  fly  so  small  but  now  dares  bring 

Her  little  wrath  against  her  quondam  king. 

What  hideous  sights,  what  horror-boding  shows, — 
Alas,  what  yells,  what  howls,  what  thundering  throes! 
O  am  I  not  near  roaring  Phlegethon, 
Alecto  sad,  Meger'  and  Ctesiphon? 
What  spells  have  charmed  ye  from  your  dreadful  den 
Of  darkest  hell?     Monsters,  abhorred  of  men, — 
O  night's  black  daughters,  grim-faced  furies  sad. 
Stern  Pluto's  posts,  what  makes  ye  here  so  mad? 
O  feels  not  man  a  world  of  woeful  terrors 
Beside  your  goring  wounds  and  ghastly  horrors? 

So  soon  as  God  from  Eden  Adam  drave 
To  live  in  this  earth — rather  in  this  grave — 
Where  reign  a  thousand  deaths,  he  summoned  up 


iSAn  early  suggestion  of  the  idea  expressed  in  Campbell's  "Mariners 
of  England." 


210  THE  STORY  OF  ADAM. 

With  thundering  call  the  damned  crew  that  sup 
Of  sulphury  Styx  and  fiery  Phlegethon, 
Bloody  Cocytus,  muddy  Acheron. 
Come,  snake-tressed  sisters,  come,  ye  dismal  elves; 
Come  now  to  curse  and  cruciate  yourselves. 
Come,  leave  the  horror  of  your  houses  pale ! 
Come,  parbreak  here  your  foul,  black,  baneful  gall ; 
Let  lack  of  work  no  more  from  henceforth  fear  you; 
Man  by  his  sin  a  hundred  hells  doth  rear  you. 

This  echo  made  all  hell  to  tremble,  troubled, 
The  drowsy  night  her  deep,  dark  horrors  doubled, 
And  suddenly  Avernus'  gulf  did  swim 
With  rosin,  pitch  and  brimstone  to  the  brim, 
And  th'ugly  Gorgons  and  the  Sphinxes  fell, 
Hydras  and  harpies,  'gan  to;  yawn  and  yell.19 

As  the  heat,  hidden  in  a  vapory  cloud, 
Striving  for  issue  with  strange  murmurs  loud, 
Like  guns  astuns  with  round,  round-rumbling  thunder, 
Filling  the  air  with  noise,  the  earth  with  wonder, 
So' the  three  sisters,  the  three  hideous  rages, 
Raise  thousand  storms,  leaving  th'infernal  stages. 

Already  all  roll  on  their  steely  cars, 
On  th'ever-shaking,  ninefold,  steely  bars 
Of  Stygian  bridge  and  in  that  fearful  cave 
They  jumble,  tumble,  rumble,  rage  and  rave. 
Then  dreadful  Hydra  and  dire  Cerberus, 
Which  on  one  body  beareth,  monsterous, 
The  heads  of  dragon,  dog,  ounce,  bear  and  bull, 
Wolf,  lion,  horse,  of  strength  and  stomach  full; 
Lifting  his  lungs  he  hisses,  barks  and  brays ; 
He  howls,  he  yells,  he  bellows,  roars  and  neighs ; 
Such  a  black  sant,  such  a  confused  sound 
From  many-headed  bodies  doth  rebound. 

Having  attained  to  our  calm  haven  of  light 
With  swifter  course  than  Boreas'  nimble  flight, 
All  fly  at  man,  all  at  intestine  strife, 


l9"Gorgons    and    Hydras    and    Chimeras   dire." — Par.    Lost,    II,    628. 
"Fell"  is  an  adjective,  meaning  cruel. 


THE  FURIES.  211 

Who  most  may  torture  his  detested  life. 

Here  first  comes  dearth,  the  lively  form  of  death, 
Still  yawning  wide  with  loathsome,  sickening  breath, 
With  hollow  eyes,  with  meager  cheeks  and  chin, 
With  sharp,  lean  bones  piercing  her  sable  skin, 
Her  empty  bowels  may  be  plainly  spied 
Clean  through  the  wrinkles  of  her  withered  hide. 
She  hath  no  belly  but  the  belly's  seat, 
Her  knees  and  knuckles  swelling  hugely  great, 
Insatiate  Orque  that,  even  at  one  repast, 
Almost  all  creatures  in  the  world  would  waste; 
Whose  greedy  gorge  dish  after  dish  doth  draw, 
Seeks  meat  in  meat.     For  still  her  monstrous  maw 
Voids  in  devouring,  and  sometimes  she  eats 
Her  own  dear  babes  for  lack  of  other  meats. 
Nay,  more ;  sometimes,  O  strangest  gluttony, 
She  eats  herself,  herself  to  satisfy, 
Lessening  herself,  herself  so  to  enlarge, 
And  cruel  thus  she  doth  our  grandsire  charge ; 
And  brings  besides  from  Limbo  to  assist  her 
Rage,  feebleness  and  thirst,  her  ruthless  sister. 

Next  marches  war,  the  mistress  of  enormity 
Mother  of  mischief,  monster  of  deformity, 
Laws,  manners,  arts  she  breaks,  she  mars,  she  chases, 
Blood,  tears,  bowers,  towers,  she  spills,  swills,  burns, 

and  razes; 

Her  brazen  feet  shake  all  the  earth  asunder; 
Her  mouth's  a  firebrand,  and  her  voice  a  thunder; 
Her  looks  are  lightnings,  every  glance  a  flash, 
Her  fingers  guns  that  all  to  powder  pash, 
Fear  and  despair,  flight  and  disorder  coast20 
With  hasty  march  before  her  murderous  host, 
As  burning,  waste,  rape,  wrong,  impiety, 
Rage,  ruin,  discord,  horror,  cruelty, 


20"What  horrors  round  him  wait! 
Amazement  in  his  van,  with  Flight  combined, 
And  Sorrow's  faded  form,  and  Solitude  behind." 

Gray,  "The  Bard",  II,  1. 
The  ninth  stanza  of  Gray's  "Elegy"  is  almost  wholly  Sylvestrian. 


212  THE  STORY  OF  ADAM. 

Sack,  sacrilege,  impunity  and  pride 
Are  still  stern  consorts  by  her  barbarous  side, 
And  poverty,  sorrow,  and  desolation 
Follow  her  army's  bloody  transmigration. 

Here's  th'other  fury,  or  my  judgment  fails, 
Which  furiously  man's  woeful  life  assails 
With  thousand  cannons,  sooner  felt  than  seen, 
Wliere  weakest,  strongest ;  fraught  with  deadly  teen,21 
Blind,  crooked,  cripple,  maimed,  deaf  and  mad, 
Cold,  burning,  blistered,  melancholic,  sad, — 
Many-named  poison,  minister  of  death, 
Which  from  us  creeps,  but  to  us  gallopeth ; 
Foul,  trouble-rest,  fantastic,  greedy-gut, 
Blood-sweating,  heart's  thief,  wretched,  filthy  slut, 
The  child  of  surfeit,  and  air's  temper  vicious, 
Perilous  known,  but  unknown  most  pernicious. 

Th'enameled  meads  in  summer  cannot  show 
More  grasshoppers  above  nor  frogs  below, 
Than  hellish  murmurs  hereabout  do  ring; 
Nor  never  did  the  pretty  little  king 
Of  honey-people,  on  a  sunshine  day, 
Lead  to  the  field  in  orderly  array 
More  busy  buzzers,  when  he  casteth,  witty, 
The  first  foundations  of  his  waxen  city, 
Than  this  fierce  monster  musters  in  her  train, — 
Fell  soldiers  charging  poor  mankind  amain.22 

Lo,  first  a  rough  and  furious  regiment 
T'assault  the  fort  of  Adam's  head  is  sent,. 
Reason's  best  bulwark,  and  the  holy  cell 
Wherein  the  soul's  most  sacred  powers  dwell. 

A  king  that  aims  his  neighbor's  crown  to  win, 
Before  the  bruit  of  open  wars  begin, 
Corrupts  his  counsel  with  rich  recompenses, 
For  in  good  counsel  stands  the  strength  of  princes. 
So  this  fell  fury  for  forerunners  sends 
Mania  and  frenzy  to  suborn  her  friends; 


silnjury,  vexation. 

22Shakespeare  uses  "amain"  rather  as  implying  celerity  than  might. 
Milton,  like  Sylvester,  indicates  the  latter  quality. 


THE  FURIES.  213 

Whereof  th'one  drying,  th 'other  over-warming, 

The  feeble  brain,  the  seat  of  judgment  harming, 

Within  the  soul  fantastically  they  feign 

A  confused  host  of  strange  Chimeras  vain : 

The  karos,23  th'apoplexy  and  lethargy, 

As  forlorn  hope  assault  the  enemy 

On  the  same  side,  but  yet  with  weapons  others, 

For  they  freeze  up  the  brain  and  all  its  brothers, 

Making  the  live  man  like  a  lifeless  carcass, 

So  that  again  he  scapeth  from  the  Parcas. 

And  now  the  palsy  and  the  cramp  dispose 

Their  angry  darts;  this  binds  and  that  doth  loose 

Man's  feeble  sinews,  shutting  up  the  way 

Whereby  before  the  vital  spirits  did  play. 

Then,  as  a  man  that  fronts  in  single  fight 
His  sudden  foe,  his  ground  doth  traverse  light, 
Thrusts,  wards,  avoids  and  best  advantage  spies, 
At  last  to  daze  his  rival's  sparkling  eyes 
He  casts  his  cloak,  and  then  with  coward  knife 
In  crimson  streams  he  makes  him  strain  his  life. 
So  sickness,  Adam  to  subdue  the  better, 
Whom  thousand  gyves  already  fastly  fetter, 
Brings  to  the  field  the  faithless  ophthalmy 
With  scalding  blood  to  blind  her  enemy, 
Darting  a  thousand  thrusts ;  then  she  is  backed 
By  the  amafrose,24  and  cloudy  cataract ; 
That,  gathering  up  gross  humors  inwardly 
In  the  optic  sinew,  clean  puts  out  the  eye, — 
This  other  caseth  in  an  envious  caul 
The  crystal  humor,  shining  in  the  ball. 

This  past,  in  steps  that  insolent  insulter, 
The  cruel  quinsy,  leaping  like  a  vulture 
At  Adam's  throat,  his  hollow  weasand  swelling 
Among  the  muscles,  through  thick  blood  congealing, 
Leaving  him  only  this  essay  for  sign 
Ofs  might  and  malice,  to  his  future  line, 
Like  Hercules  that  in  his  infant  brows 


23"Karos"  is  a  Greek  word,  meaning  drowsiness  and  headache. 
24Amaurosis. 


214  THE  STORY  OF  ADAM. 

Bore  glorious  marks  of  his  undaunted  prowess, 
When,  with  his  hands  like  steely  tongs,  he  strangled 
His  spiteful  step-dam's  dragons,  spotty-spangled, 
A  proof  presaging  the  triumphant  spoils 
That  he  achieved  by  his  twelve  famous  toils. 

The  second  regiment  with  deadly  darts 
Assaulteth  fiercely  Adam's  vital  parts. 
Already  th'asthma,  panting,  breathing  tough, 
With  humors  gross  the  lifting  lungs  doth  stuff ; 
The  pining  phthisic  fills  them  all  with  pushes, 
Whence  a  slow  spout  of  corsy  matter  gushes; 
A  wasting  flame,  the  peripneumony 
Within  those  sponges  kindles  cruelly; 
The  spawling  empyem',  ruthless  as  the  rest, 
With  foul  imposthumes  fills  his  hollow  chest; 
The  pleurisy  stabs  him  with  desperate  foil 
Beneath  the  ribs  where  scalding  blood  doth  boil ; 
Then  th'incubus,  by  some  supposed  a  sprite, 
With  a  thick  phlegm  doth  stop  his  breath  by  night. 

Dear   Muse,    my   guide, — dear   Truth — that   naught 

dissembles, 

Name  me  that  champion  that  with  fury  trembles, 
Who,  armed  with  blazing  fire-brands,  fiercely  flings 
At  th'army's  heart,  not  at  our  feeble  wings; 
Having  for  aids,  Cough,  Headache,  Horror,  Heat, 
Pulse-Beating,  Burning,  cold-distilling  Sweat, 
Thirst,  Yawning,  Yolking,  Casting,  Shivering,  Shaking, 
Fantastic  Raving  and  continual  Aching, 
With  many  more :     O  is  not  this  the  fury 
We  call  the  Fever?       whose  inconstant  fury 
Transforms  her  ofter  than  Vertumnus  can, 
To  tertian,  quartan,  and  quotidian, 
And  second,  too;  now  posting,  sometimes  pausing, 
Even  as  the  matter  all  these  changes  causing, 
Is  rummaged  with  motions  slow  or  quick 
In  feeble  bodies  of  the  ague-sick. 

A  treacherous  beast !  needs  must  I  know  thee  best : 
For  four  whole  years  thou  wert  my  poor  heart's  guest ; 
And  to  this  day,  in  body  and  in  mind 
I  bear  the  marks  of  thy  despite  unkind; 


THE  FURIES.  215 

For  yet,  besides  my  veins  and  bones  bereft 

Of  blood  and  marrow,  through  thy  secret  theft 

I  feel  the  virtue  of  my  spirit  decayed, 

Th'enthusiasm  of  my  muse  allayed; 

My  memory,  which  had  been  meetly  good, 

Is  now,  alas,  much  like  the  fleeting  flood, 

Whereon,  no  sooner  have  we  drawn  a  line 

But  it  is  canceled,  leaving  there  no  sign.25 

For  the  dear  fruit  of  all  my  care  and  cost, 

My  former  study,  almost  all  is  lost; 

And  oft  in  secret  have  I  blushed  at 

Mine  ignorance,  like  Corvine,26  who  forgat 

His  proper  name;  or  like  George  Trapezunce, 

Learned  in  youth,  and  in  old  age  a  dunce; 

And  thence  it  grows  that,  maugre  my  endeavor, 

My  numbers  still  by  habit  have  the  fever; 

One  while  with  heat  of  heavenly  fire  ensouled, — 

Shivering  anon  through  faint,  unlearned  cold. 

Now  the  third  regiment,  with  stormy  stours 
Sets  on  the  squadron  of  our  natural  powers, 
Which  happily  maintain  us,  duly,  both 
With  needful  food  and  with  sufficient  growth. 
One  while  the  bulimy,  then  anorexic,27 
Then  the  dog-hunger  or  the  bradypepsie, 
And  child-great  pica,  of  prodigious  diet, 
In  straitest  stomachs  rage  with  monstrous  riot; 
Then  on  the  liver  doth  the  jaundice  fall, 
Stopping  the  passage  of  the  choleric  gall; 
Which  then  for  good  blood,  scatters  all  about 
Her  fiery  poison,  yellowing  all  without; 
But  the  sad  dropsy  freezeth  it  extreme, 
Till  all  the  blood  be  turned  into  fleam,28 
But  see,  alas,  by  far  more  cruel  foes, 
The  slippery  bowels  thrilled  with  thousand  throes; 


25"Virtues  we  write  in  water." — King  Henry  VIII,  III,  2. 

26Hunyadi  Janos  was  the  first  Hungarian  Corvinus,  and  was  followed 
by  his  son  Matthias  who  became  king. 

27Bulimia  is  an  intense  craving  for  food,  anorexia  a  loathing  of  the 
same. 

28An  orthographical  variant  of  phlegm. 


216  THE  STORY  OF  ADAM. 

With  prisoned  winds,  the  wring-ing  colic  pains  them, 
The  iliac  passion  with  more  rigx)r  strains  them.       .  . 

The  fell  fourth  regiment  is  outward  tumors, 
Begot  of  vicious,  undigested  humors ; 
As  phlegmons,  oedems,  scirrhus,  erysipiles, 
King's-evils,  cankers,  cruel  gouts  and  biles,29 
Wens,  ringworms,  tetters ;  these  from  every  part 
With  thousand  pangs  brave  the  besieged  heart, 
And  their  blind  fury,  wanting  force  and  courage 
To  hurt  the  fort,  the  champaign  country  forage. 
O  tyrants !  sheath  your  feeble  swords  again ; 
For  death  already  thousand  times  hath  slain 
Your  enemy;  and  yet  your  envious  rigor 
Doth  mar  his  feature  and  his  limbs  disfigure, 
And  with  a  dull  and  ragged  instrument 
His  joints  and  skin  are  sawed  and  torn  and  rent. 
Methinks  most  rightly  to  a  coward  crew 
Of  wolves  and  foxes  I  resemble  you, 
Who  in  a  forest,  finding  in  the  sand 
The  lion  dead  that  did  alive  command 
The  land,  about  whose  awful  countenance 
Melted  far  off  their  ice-like  arrogance, 
Mangle  the  members  of  their  lifeless  prince 
With  feeble  signs  of  dastard  insolence. 

But  with  the  griefs  that  charge  our  outward  places 
Shall  I  account  the  loathsome  phthiriasis?30 
O  shameful  plague !  O  foul  infirmity ! 
Which  makes  proud  kings  fouler  than  beggars  be, 
That,  wrapt  in  rags  and  wrung  with  vermin  sores, 
Their  itching  backs  sit  shrugging  evermore 
To  swarm  with  lice  that  rubbing  cannot  rid, 
Nor  often  shift  of  shirts  and  sheets  and  beds ; 
For  as  in  spring  stream  stream  pursueth  fresh, 


29Boils  were  called  "biles"  by  fairly  well  educated  northern  Amer- 
icans within  the  memory  of  people  still  alive.  Possibly  '"erysipiles" 
might  have  been  thought  to  afford  an  allowable  rhyme  for  the  former 
by  some  citizens  in  the  early  nineteenth  century. 

sophthiriasis  was  said  to  have  been  the  effect  of  burrowing  by  cer- 
tain insects  in  the  human  body,  and  the  death  of  King  Herod  was 
attributed  to  it. 


THE  FURIES.  217 

Swarm  follows  swarm,  and  their  too  fruitful  flesh 
Breeds  her  own  eaters,  and  till  death  arrest, 
Makes  of  itself  an  execrable  feast. 

Nor  may  we  think  that  chance  confusedly 
Conducts  the  camp  of  our  third  enemy ; 
For  of  her  soldiers  some,  as  led  by  reason, 
Can  make  their  choice  of  country,  age  and  season. 
So  Portugal  hath  phthisics  most  of  all ; 
Eber,  king's-evils;  Arne,  the  sudden-fall. 
After  the  influence  of  the  heavens  all-ruling, 
Or  country's  manners,  so  soft  childhood,  puling, 
Is  wrung  with  worms  begot  of  crudity, 
Is  apt  to  lasks,31  through  much  humidity. 
To  bloody  fluxes  youth  is  apt  inclining, 
Continual  fevers,  frenzies,  phthisic,  pining; 
And  feeble  age  is  seldom  times  without 
Her  tedious  guests,  the  palsy  and  the  gout, 
Coughs  and  catarrhs,  and  so  the  pestilence, 
The  quartan  ague  with  her  accidents, 
The  flux,  the  hip-gout,  and  the  watery  tumor 
Are  bred  with  us  of  an  autumnal  humor. 
The  itch,  the  murrain,  the  Alcides'  grief, 
In  Ver's  hot  moisture  do  molest  us  chief; 
The  diarrhoea  and  the  burning  fever 
In  summer  season  do  their  full  endeavor ; 
And  pleurisies,  the  rotten  coughs,  and  rheums 
Wear  curled  flakes  of  white  celestial  plumes 
Like  sluggish  soldiers,  keeping  garrison 
In  th'icy  bulwarks  of  the  year's  gelt  son.32 

Some,  seeming  most  in  multitudes  delighting, 
Bane  one  by  other  not  the  first  acquitting, 
As  measles,  mange,  and  filthy  leprosy, 
The  plague,  small-pox  and  phthisic  malady; 
And  some,  alas,  we  leave  as  in  succession 
Unto  our  children  for  a  sad  possession : 
Such  are  king's-evils,  dropsy,  gout  and  stone, 
Blood-boiling  lepra,  and  consumption, 


3l"Apt  to  lasks"  is  "inclined  to  fluxes." 
32Winter;   because  unproductive. 


218  THE  STORY  OF  ADAM. 

The  swelling  throat-ache,  th'epilepsy  sad, 
And  cruel  rupture,  paining  too,  too  bad ; 
For  their  hid  poisons'  after-coming  harm 
Is  fast  combined  unto  the  parent  sperm. 

But  O  what  arms,  what  shield  shall  we  oppose, 
What  stratagems,  against  those  treacherous  foes, 
Those  treacherous  griefs  that  our  frail  art  detects, 
Not  by  their  cause,  but  by  their  sole  effects? 
Such  are  the  fruitful  matrix  suffocation, 
The  falling  sickness,  and  pale  swooning  passion, 
The  which,  I  wot  not  what  strange  wind's  long  pause, 
I  wot  not  where,  I  wot  not  how  doth  cause. 

Or  who,  alas,  can  'scape  the  cruel  wile 
Of  those  fell  pangs  that  physic's  pains  beguile, 
Which  by  being  banished  from  a  body,  yet 
Under  new  names  return  again  to  it ; 
Or  rather,  taught  the  strange  metempsychosis 
Of  the  wise  Samian,  one  itself  transposes 
Into  some  worse  grief,  either  through  the  kindred 
Of  th'humors  vicious  or  the  member  hindered, 
Or  through  their  ignorance  or  avarice, 
That  do  profess  Apollo's  exercise. 
So  melancholy,  turned  into  madness, 
Into  the  palsy,  deep  affrighted  sadness, 
Th'ill-habitude  into  the  dropsy  chill, 
And  megrim  grows  to  the  comitial  ill.33 

In  brief,  poor  Adam,  in  this  piteous  case, 
Is  like  a  stag  that,  long  pursued  in  chase, 
Flying  for  succor  to  some  neighboring  wood, 
Sinks  on  the  sudden  in  the  yielding  mud, 
And  sticking  fast  amid  the  rotten  grounds, 
Is  overtaken  by  the  eager  hounds. 
One  bites  his  back,  his  neck  another  nips, 
One  pulls  his  breast,  at's  throat  another  skips, 
One  tugs  his  flank,  his  haunch  another  tears, 
Another  lugs  him  by  the  bleeding  ears, 
And  last  of  all  the  woodman  with  his  knife 


33The  epilepsy  was  sometimes  so  called,  because  if  a  case  occurred 
in  the  Roman  comitia  the  meeting  was  adjourned  forthwith. 


THE  FURIES.  210 

Cuts  off  his  head,  and  so  concludes  his  life. 

Or  like  a  lusty  bull,  whose  honied  crest 

Awakes  fell  hornets  from  their  drowsy  nest, 

Who,  buzzing  forth,  assail  him  on  each  side 

And  pitch  their  valiant  bands  about  his  hide, 

With  fisking  train,  with  forked  head  and  foot, 

Himself,  air,  earth,  he  beateth  to  no  boot, 

Flying  through  woods,  hills,  dales  and  rolling  rivers, 

His  place  of  grief,  but  not  his  painful  grievers, 

And  in  the  end,  stitched  full  of  stings,  he  dies, 

Or  on  the  ground  as  dead,  at  least,  he  lies. 

For  man  is  laden  with  ten  thousand  languors : 
All  other  creatures  only  feel  the  angers 
Of  few  diseases,  as  the  gleaning  quail 
Only  the  falling  sickness  doth  assail, 
The  turn-about  and  murrain  trouble  cattle, 
Madness  and  quinsy  bid  the  mastiff  battle. 
Yet  each  of  them  can  naturally  find 
What  simples  cure  the  sickness  of  their  kind ; 
Feeling  no  sooner  their  disease  begin, 
But  they  as  soon  have  ready  medicine. 
The  ram  for  physic  takes  strong  scenting  rue; 
The  tortoise,  slow,  cold  hemlock  doth  renew; 
The  partridge,  blackbird  and  rich  painted  jay, 
Have  th'oily  liquor  of  the  sacred  bay. 
The  sickly  bear  the  mandrake  cures  again, 
And  mountain  siler34  helpeth  goats  to  yean. 

But  we  know  nothing  till,  by  poring  still 
On  books,  we  get  us  a  sophistic  skill, — 
A  doubtful  art,  a  knowledge  still  unknown, 
Which  enters  but  the  hoary  heads  alone 
Of  those  that,  broken  with  unthankful  toil, 
Seek  others'  health,  and  lose  their  own  the  while ; 
Or  rather  those, — such  are  the  greatest  part, — 
That,  waxing  rich  at  others'  cost  and  smart, 
Grow  famous  doctors,  purchasing  promotions, 
While  churchyards  swell  because  of  their  vile  potions; 


34The  siler  is  a.  family  of  umbellifers,  to  which  carrots  and  parsnips 
belong. 


220  THE  STORY  OF  ADAM. 

Who,  hangman-like,  fearless  and  shameless  too, 
Are  prayed  and  paid  for  murders  that  they  do. 

I  speak  not  of  the  good,  the  wise,  the  learned, 
Within  whose  hearts  God's  fear  is  well  discerned ; 
Who  to  our  bodies  can  again  unite 
Our  parting  souls,  ready  to  take  their  flight ; 
For  these  I  honor  as  Heaven's  gifts  excelling, 
Pillars  of  health,  death  and  disease  repelling, — • 
Th'Almighty's  agents,  Nature's  counsel  ors, 
And  flowering  youth's  wise,  faithful  governors. 
Yet,  if  their  art  can  ease  some  kind  of  dolors, 
They  learned  it  first  of  Nature's  silent  scholars ; 
For  from  the  sea-horse  came  phlebotomies, 
From  the  wild  goat  the  healing  of  the  eyes, 
From  stork  and  hern  our  clysters  laxative; 
From  bears  and  lions  diets  we  derive. 

'Gainst  man's  frail  body  all  these  champions  stout 
Strive,  some  within  and  other  some  without ; 
Or  if  that  any  th'all-fair  soul  have  stricken, 
Tis  not  directly,  but  that  in  that  they  weaken 
Her  officers,  and  spoil  the  instruments, 
Wherewith  she  works  such  wondrous  precedents. 

But  lo,  four  captains,  far  more  fierce  and  eager, 
That  on  all  sides  the  spirit  itself  beleaguer ; 
Whose  constancy  they  shake,  and  soon  by  treason 
Draw  the  blind  judgment  from  the  rule  of  reason. 
Opinions  issue,  which,  though  self  unseen, 
Make  through  the  body  their  fell  motions  seen. 

Sorrow's  first  leader  of  this  furious  crowd, 
Muffled  all  over  in  a  sable  cloud, 
Old  before  age,  afflicted  night  and  day, 
Her  face  with  wrinkles  warped  every  way; 
Creeping  in  corners,  where  she  sits  and  vies35 
Sighs  from  her  heart,  tears  from  her  blubbered  eyes ; 
Accompanied  by  self-consuming  Care, 
By  weeping  Pity,  Thought,  and  mad  Despair 


35Ben  Johnson's  "Fox",  IV,  2,  has  the  ejaculation,  "Now  thine  eyes 
vie  tears  with  the  hyena."  Perhaps  the  idea  of  competition  is  included 
in  both  examples. 


THE  FURIES.  221 

(That  bears  about  her  burning  coals  and  cords, 
Asps,  poisons,  pistols,  halters,  knives  and  swords,) 
Foul,  squinting  Envy,  that  self-eating  elf, 
Through  others'  leanness  fatting  up  herself, 
Joying  in  mischief,  feeding  but  with  languor 
And  bitter  tears  her  toad-like  swelling  anger, — 
And  Jealousy  that  never  sleeps,  for  fear, 
(Suspicion's  flea  still  nibbling  in  her  ear;36) 
That  leaves  repast  and  rest,  ne'er  pined,37  and  blind 
With  seeking  what  she  would  be  loth  to  find. 

The  second  captain  is  excessive  Joy 
Who  leaps  and  tickles,  finding  th'Appian  way 
Too  straight  for  her  whose  senses  all  possess 
All  wished  pleasures  in  all  plenteousness. 
She  hath  in  conduct  false,  vainglorious  vaunting, 
Bold,  soothing,  shameless,  loud,  injurious  taunting. 
The  winged  giant,  lofty,  staring  pride, 
That  in  the  clouds  her  braving  crest  doth  hide, 
And  many  other,  like  the  empty  bubbles 
That  rise  when  rain  the  liquid  crystal  troubles. 

The  third  is  bloodless,  heartless,  witless  Fear, 
That  like  an  asp-tree  trembles  everywhere. 
She  leads  black  Terror,  and  base,  clownish  Shame 
And  drowsy  Sloth,  that  counterfeiteth  lame, 
With  snail-like  motion  measuring  the  ground, 
Having  her  arms  in  willing  fetters  bound. 
Foul,  sluggish  drone,  barren  but  sin  to1  breed, 
Diseased  beggar,  starved  with  willful  need. 

And  thou,  Desire,  whom  nor  the  firmament, 
Nor  air  nor  earth  nor  ocean  can  content, 
Whose  looks  are  hooks,  whose  belly's  bottomless, 
Whose  hands  are  gripes  to  scrape  with  greediness! 
Thou  art  the  fourth,  and  under  thy  command 
Thou  bring'st  to  field  a  rough,  unruly  band. 
First,  secret,  burning,  mighty,  swoll'n  Ambition, 
Pent  in  no  limits,  pleased  with  no  condition, 


sepossibly  the  origin  of  the  proverbial  "flea  in  his  ear." 
37Famished.    "Surfeit  by  the  eye,  and  pine  the  maw." — Venus  and 
Adonis. 


222  THE  STORY  OF  ADAM. 

Whom  Epicurus'  many  worlds  suffice  not; 
Whose  furious  thirst  of  proud  aspiring  dies  not; 
Whose  hands,  transported  with  fantastic  passion, 
Bear  painted  scepters  in  imagination. 

Then  Avarice,  all  armed  in  hooking  tenters, 
And  clad  in  bird-lime,  without  bridge  she  ventures 
Through  fell  Charybdis'  and  false  Syrtes'  nesse  j38 
The  more  her  wealth  the  more  her  wretchedness ; 
Cruel,  respectless,  friendless,  faithless  elf, 
That  hurts  her  neighbor,  but  much  more  herself, 
Whose  foul,  base  fingers  in  each  dunghill  pore, 
Like  Tantalus,  starved  in  the  midst  of  store, 
Nor  what  she  hath,  but  what  she  wants,  she  counts, 
A  well-winged  bird  that  never  lofty  mounts. 

Then  boiling  Wrath,  stern,  cruel,  swift  and  rash, 
That  like  a  boar  her  teeth  doth  grind  and  gnash, 
Whose  hair  doth  stare  like  bristled  porcupine,39 
Who  sometimes  rolls  her  ghastly,  glowing  eyen, 
And  sometimes  fixtly  on  the  ground  doth  glance, 
Now  bleak,  now  bloody,40  in  her  countenance, 
Raving  and  railing  with  a  hideous  sound, 
Clapping  her  hands,  stamping  against  the  ground, 
Bearing  Bocconi  fire  and  sword,  to  slay 
And  murder  all  that  her  for  pity  pray, 
Baning  herself  to  bane  her  enemy, 
Disdaining  death  provided  others  die ; 
Like  falling  tow,ers  o'erturned  by  the  wind 
That  break  themselves  on  that  they  undergrind. 

And  then  that  tyrant,  all  controlling  Love, 
Whom  here  to  paint  doth  little  me  behoove, 
After  so  many  rare  Apelleses 


38Syrtes,  a  dangerous  point  in  the  African  coast.  Nesse  signifies 
land,  but  is  now  obsolete  except  in  combinations  like  Sheerness, 
Holderness,  etc. 

SSShakespeare's  revision  of  this  expression  in  the  Ghost's  assurance 
to  Hamlet  that  he  could  a  tale  unfold  to  make  "each  particular  hair 
to  stand  on  end  like  quills  upon  the  fretful  porpentine"  gives  an  ad- 
ditional interest  to  the  original.  "Stare"  is  also  used  by  Shakespeare 
in  the  Sylvestrian  sense.  (J.  Caesar,  IV,  3,  280;  Tempest,  I,  2,  247.) 
Cain's  horse  in  "The  Handicrafts"  "bristles"  his  mane. 

40That  is,  now  pale,  now  purple. 


THE  FURIES.  223 

As  in  this  age  our  Albion  nourishes,41 
And,  to  be  short,  thou  dost  to  battle  bring 
As  many  soldiers  'gainst  the  creatures'  king, 
(Yet  not  his  own,)  as  in  this  life  mankind 
True,  very  goods,  or  seeming  goods,  doth  find. 

Now  if,  but  like  the  lightning  in  the  sky, 
These  sudden  passions  passed  but  swiftly  by, 
The  fear  were  less ;  but,  O,  too  oft  they  leave 
Keen  stings  behind  in  souls  that  they  deceive. 
From  this  foul  fountain  all  these  poisons  rise — 
Rapes,  treasons,  murders,  incests,  sodomies, 
Blaspheming,  bibbing,  thieving,  false-contracting 
Church-chaffering,  cheating,  bribing  and  exacting. 

Alas,  how  these  (far  worse  than  death)  diseases 
Exceed  each  sickness  that  our  body  seizes, 
Which  makes  us  open  war,  and  by  its  spite 
Gives  to  the  patient  many  a  wholesome  light, 
Now  by  the  color,  or  the  pulse's  beating, 
Or  by  some  fit,  some  sharper  dolor  threating, 
Whereby  the  leech,  near  guessing  at  our  grief, 
Not  seldom  finds  sure  means  for  our  relief. 
But,  for  these  ills'  reign  in  our  intellect, 
(Which  only  them  both  can  and  ought  detect,) 
They  rest  unknown,  or  rather  self-concealed, 
And  soul-sick  patients  care  not  to  be  healed. 

Besides  we  plainly  call  the  fever,  fever, 
The  dropsy,  dropsy,  over-gilding  never 
With  guileful  flourish  of  a  feigned  phrase 
The  cruel  languors  that  our  bodies  craze, 
Whereas  our  fond  self-soothing  soul,  thus  sick, 
Rubs  her  own  sore  with  glossing  rhetoric, 
Cloaking  her  vice ;  and  makes  the  blinded  blain42 
Not  fear  the  touch  of  reason's  cauter  vain. 

And  sure,  if  ever  filthy  vice  did  jet 
In  sacred  virtue's  spotless  mantle  neat, 
'Tis  in  our  days  more  hateful  and  unhallowed 


4lThis  and  the  two  preceding  lines  original  with  Sylvester. 
42A  skin  disease.     See  Exodus  IX,  9,  and  Shakespeare's  Timon  of 
Athens,  IV,  I. 


224  THE  STORY  OF  ADAM. 

Than  when  the  world  the  waters  wholly  swallowed. 

I'll  spare  to  speak  of  foulest  sins  that  spot 
Th'infamous  beds  of  men  of  mighty  lot, 
Lest  I  the  saints'  chaste,  tender  ears  offend, 
And  seem  them  more  to  teach  than  reprehend. 
Who  bear  upon  their  French-sick  backs  about, 
Farms,  castles,  fees,  in  golden  threads  cut  out, 
Whose  lavish  hand  at  one  primero-rest, 
One  mask,  one  tourney,  or  one  pampering  feast, 
Sends  treasures  scraped  by  th'usury  and  care 
Of  miser  parents,  "liberal"  counted  are. 

Who  with  a  maiden  voice  and  mincing  pace, 
Quaint  looks,  curled  locks,  perfumes  and  painted  face, 
Base,  coward  heart,  and  wanton,  soft  array, 
Their  manhood  only  by  their  beard  bewray, 
Are  "cleanly"  called. 

Who-  by  false  bargains  and  unlawful  measures, 
Robbing  the  world,  have  heaped  kingly  treasures, 
Who  cheat  the  simple,  lend  for  fifty,  fifty, 
Hundred  for  hundred,  are  esteemed  "thrifty." 

Who  always  murder  and  revenge  affect, 
Who  feed  on  blood,  who  never  do  respect 
State,  sex,  or  age,  but  in  all  human  lives, 
In  cold  blood,  bathe  their  parricidal  knives, 
Are  styled  "valiant."     Grant,  good  Lord,  our  land 
May  want  such  valor,  whose  self-cruel  hand 
Fights  for  our  foes,  our  proper  life-blood  spills, 
Our  cities  sacks,  and  our  own  kindred  kills! 
Lord,  let  the  lance,  the  gun,  the  sword  and  shield, 
Be  turned  to  tools  to  furrow  up  the  field, 
And  let  us  see  the  spider's  busy  task 
Woven  in  the  belly  of  the  plumed  casque.43 

But  if,  brave  lands-men,  your  war  thirst  be  such, 
If  in  your  breast  sad  Enyo  boil  so  much, 
What  holds  you  here?     Alas!  what  hope  of  crowns? 
Our  fields  are  flockless,  treasureless  our  towns.44 


43Let  the  helmet  be  hung  up  so  long  that  the  spiders  shall  have 
closed  its  open  side  with  their  webs. 

Hrfarried  by  the  soldiers  of  "The  League"  on  the  one  hand,  and 
by  those  of  "The  Religion"  on  the  other. 


THE  FURIES.  225 

Go  then,  nay,  run,  renowned  martialists! 
Refound  French  Greece,  in  now  Natolian45  lists, 
Hie,  hie,  to  Flanders !  free  with  conquering  stroke 
Your  Belgian  brethren  from  th'Iberian's  yoke  I46 
To  Portugal !  People  Galician  Spain, 
And  grave  your  names  on  Lisbon's  gates  again. 


45Pertaining  to  the  Levant.  The  adjuration  to  "refound  French 
Greece''  may  have  reference  to  the  establishment  of  Godfrey  of  Bouli- 
lon  as  king  of  Jerusalem  at  the  close  of  the  first  crusade. 

46At  the  time  of  the  composition  of  these  poems  the  Spanish 
atrocities  in  the  Low  Countries  were  being  carried  on  in  full  strength. 


THE  HANDICRAFTS 


Heaven's  sacred  imp,1  fair  goddess,  that  renewest 
Th'old  golden  age,  and  brightly  now  re-bluest 
Our  cloudy  sky,  making  our  fields  to  smile; 
Hope  of  the  virtuous,  horror  of  the  vile, 
Virgin  unseen  in  France  this  many  a  year, 
O  blessed  Peace,  we  bid  thee  welcome  here!2 

Lo,  at  thy  presence,  how  who  late  were  pressed 
To  spur  their  steeds,  and  couch  their  staves3  in  rest 
For  fierce  encounter,  cast  away  their  spears, 
And  rapt  with  joy,  them  inter-bathe  with  tears! 


iWhen  James  Thomson,  in  his  "Castle  of  Indolence,"  wrote 
of  a  "generous  imp  of  fame",  he  was  one  of  the  latest  to  use  the  word 
seriously  in  its  original  sense.  In  the  time  of  Sylvester  it  had  no 
more  offensive  signification  than  the  word  "child",  essentially  its 
synonym. 

2A  series  of  sonnets  on  "The  Miracle  of  Peace"  between  Henry  III 
and  his  cousin  of  Navarre  was  translated  by  Sylvester,  the  first  of 
which  is  given  below  so  that  it  may  be  seen  to  what  extent  it  influenced 
Milton's  construction  of  his  sonnet  "To  the  Lord  General  Cromwell." 
Sylvester  writes: 

Henry,  triumphant  though  thou  wert  in  war, 

Though  Fate  and  Fortitude  conspired  thy  glory; 
Though  thy  least  conflicts  well  deserve  a  story; 
Though  Mars's  fame  by  thine  be  darkened  far; 
Though  from  thy  cradle,  infant  conqueror, 

Thy  martial  proofs  have  dimmed  Alcides'  praise, 
And  though  with  garlands  of  victorious  bays 
Thy  royal  temples  richly  crowned  are; 

Yet,  matchless  prince,  naught  hast  thou  wrought  so  glorious 
As  this  unlook't  for,  happy  peace  admired, 
Whereby  thyself  art  of  thyself  victorious; 
For  while  thou  mightst  the  world's  throne  have  aspired, 
Thou  by  this  peace  thy  warlike  heart  hast  tamed. 
What  greater  conquest  could  there  then  be  named? 
3Plural  of  staff,  meaning  of  lances. 


228  THE  STORY  OF  ADAM. 

Lo,  how  our  merchant  vessels  to  and  fro 

Freely  about  our  tradeful  waters  go! 

How  the  grave  senate  with  just,  gentle  rigor 

Resumes  its  robes,  the  laws  their  ancient  vigor! 

Lo,  how  oblivion's  seas  our  strifes  do  drown; 

How  walls  are  built  that  war  had  thundered  down! 

Lo,  how  the  shops  with  busy  craftsmen  swarm;     , 

How  sheep  and  cattle  cover  every  farm! 

Behold  the  bonfires  waving  to  the  skies; 

Hark!  hark,  the  cheerful  and  rechanting  cries 

Of  old  and  young,  singing  this  joyful  ditty: 

lo!  rejoice!  rejoice  through  town  and  city! 

Let  all  our  air  re-echo  with  the  praises 

Of  th'everlasting,  glorious  God,  who  raises 

Our  ruined  state,  who  giveth  us  a  good 

We  sought  not  for,  or  rather  we  withstood; 

So  that  to  hear  and  see  these  consequences 

Of  wonders  strange,  we  scarce  believe  our  senses. 

O,  let  the  king,  let  Monsieur  and  the  sover'n 

That  doth  Navarra's  Spain-wronged  scepter  govern 

Be  all  by  all  "their  country's  fathers"  clept. 

O,  let  the  honor  of  their  names  be  kept, 

And  on  brass  leaves  engraven  eternally 

In  the  bright  temple  of  fair  memory, 

For  having  quenched  so  soon  so  many  fires, 

Disarmed  our  arms,  appeased  the  heavenly  ires, 

Calmed  the  pale  horror  of  intestine  hates, 

And  dammed  up  the  bi-front  fathers'  gates.4 

Much  more  let  us,  dear,  world-divided  land,5 
Extol  the  mercies  of  Heaven's  mighty  hand 
That  while  the  world  war's  bloody  rage  hath  rent, 
To  us  so  long  so'  happy  peace  hath  lent, 
Maugre  the  malice  of  th'Italian  priest 
And   Indian  Pluto, — prop  of  Anti-Christ, — 


4Even  without  the  sonnet  above  transcribed  this  hymn  of  praise 
might  have  been  sufficient  to  inspire  the  immortal  line,  "Peace  hath 
her  victories  no  less  than  War." 

SHere  steps  forward  the  translator  with  28  lines  of  his  own,  paying 
his  personal  respects  to  the  Pope  and  to  Philip  II  of  Spain, 


THE  HANDICRAFTS.  229 

Whose  host,  like  Pharaoh's  threatening  Israel, 
Our  gaping  seas  have  swallowed  quick  to  hell, 
Making  our  isle  a  holy,  safe  retreat 
For  saints  exiled  in  persecution's  heat. 

Much  more  let  us  with  true,  heart-tuned  breath, 
Record  the  praises  of  Elizabeth, 
Our  martial  Pallas  and  our  mild  Astraea, 
Of  grace  and  wisdom  the  divine  Idea, 
Whose  prudent  rule  with  rich,  religious  rest, 
Well  near  nine  lusters6  hath  this  kingdom  blest. 

0  pray  we  Him,  that  from  home  plotted  dangers, 
And  bloody  threats  of  proud  ambitious  strangers, 
So  many  years  hath  so  securely  kept  her 

In  just  possession  of  this  flowering  scepter, 
That  to  His  glory  and  His  dear  Son's  honor, 
All  happy  length  of  life  may  wait  upon  her, 
That  we,  her  subjects,  whom  He  blesseth  by  her, 
Psalming  His  praise  may  sound  the  same  the  higher. 

But  waiting.  Lord,  in  some  more  learned  lays 
To  sing  Thy  glory  and  my  sovereign's  praise, 

1  sing  the  young  world's  cradle  as  a  proem 
Unto  so  rare  and  so  divine  a  poem. 

Who,  full  of  wealth  and  honor's  blandishment, 
Among  great  lords  his  younger  years  hath  spent, 
And,  quaffing  deeply  of  the  court  delights, 
Used7  naught  but  tilts,  tourneys,  and  masks  and  sights, 
If,  in  his  age,  his  prince's  angry  doom 
With  deep  disgrace  drive  him  to  live  at  home, 
In  homely  cottage,  where  continually 
The  bitter  smoke  exhales  abundantly 
From  his  before-unsorrow-drained  brain — 
The  brackish  vapors  of  a  silver  rain; 
Where  usherless  both  day  and  night  the  north, 


6As  Elizabeth  did  not  reign  quite  forty-five  years,  the  date  of  this 
interpolation  must  have  been  near  the  time  of  her  decease. 

7"Use,"  in  the  sense  of  the  verb  "frequent",  occurs  several  times 
in  Sylvester's  poems,  but  not  elsewhere  so  far  as  I  have  learned,  except 
in  Milton's  Lycidas.  One  example  occurs  in  some  lines  on  tobacco 
quoted  in  the  introduction  to  this  volume. 


230  THE  STORY  OF  ADAM. 

South,  east  and  west  winds  enter  and  go  forth; 

Where  round  about  the  low-roofed,  broken  walls, 

Instead  of  arras  hang  with  spider's  cauls, 

Where  all  at  once  he  reacheth  as  he  stands, 

With  brows  the  roof,  both  walls  with  both  his  hands ; 

He  weeps  and  sighs,  and  shunning  comforts  ay, 

Wisheth  pale  death  a  thousand  times  a  day, 

And  yet,  at  length  falling  to  work,  is  glad 

To  bite  a  brown  crust  that  the  mouse  hath  had, 

And  in  a  dish  instead  of  plate  or  glass, 

Sups  oaten  drink  instead  of  hippocras; 

So,  or  much  like,  o>ur  rebel  elders,  driven, 

For  ay  from  Eden,  earthly  type  of  heav'n, 

Lie  languishing  near  Tigris'  grassy  side, 

With  numbed  limbs  and  spirits  stupefied. 

But  powerful  need,  art's  ancient  dame  and  keeper, 
The  early  watch  clock  of  the  slothful  sleeper, 
Among  the  mountains  makes  them  seek  their  living, 
And  foaming  rivers  through  the  champaign  driving. 
(For  yet  the  trees  with  thousand  fruits  y-fraught 
In  formal  checkers  were  not  fairly  brought. 
The  pear  and  apple  lived  dwarf-like  there, 
With  oaks  and  ashes  shadowed  everywhere; 
And  yet,  alas,  their  meanest  simple  cheer 
Our  wretched  parents  bought  full  hard  and  dear.) 
To  get  a  plum  sometimes  poor  Adam  rushes 
With  thousand  wounds  among  a  thousand  bushes. 
If  they  desire  a  medlar  for  their  food, 
They  must  go  seek  it  through  a  fearful  wood; 
Or  a  brown  mulberry,  then  the  ragged  bramble 
With  thousand  scratches  doth  their  skin  bescramble. 

Wherefore  as  yet  more  led  by  th'appetite 
Of  th'hungry  belly  than  the  taste's  delight, 
Living  from  hand  to  mouth,8  soon  satisfied 
To  earn  their  supper,  th'afternoon  they  plied 
Unstored  of  dinner  till  the  morrow  day, 
Pleased  with  an  apple  or  some  lesser  prey  ;9 


8An  expression  still  common  in  America,  at  least. 
9"Pleased  with  a  rattle,  tickled  with  a  straw." — Pope. 


THE  HANDICRAFTS.  231 

Then,  taught  by  Ver,  richer  in  flowers  than  fruit, 
And  hoary  Winter,  of  both  destitute, 
Nuts,  filberts,  almonds,  wisely  up  they  hoard, 
The  best  provisions  that  the  woods  afford. 

Touching  their  garments:     For  the  shining  wool 
Whence  the  robe-spinning,  precious  worms  are  full, 
For  gold  and  silver  woven  in  drapery, 
For  cloth  dipped  double  in  the  scarlet  dye, 
For  gems'  bright  luster,  with  excessive  cost 
Of  rich  embroideries  by  rare  art  embossed — 
Sometimes  they  do  the  far  spread  gourd  unleave, 
Sometimes  the  fig  tree  of  its  branch  bereave, 
Sometimes  the  plane,  sometimes  the  vine  they  shear, 
Choosing  their  fairest  tresses  here  and  there, 
And  with  their  sundry  locks  thorned  each  to  other, 
Their  tender  limbs  they  hide  from  Cynthia's  brother.10 

Sometimes  the  ivy's  climbing  stems  they  strip, 
Which  lovingly  its  lively  prop  doth  clip, 
And  with  green  lace  in  artificial  order 
The  wrinkled  bark  of  th'acorn  tree  doth  border, 
And  with  its  arms  th'oak's  slender  twigs  entwining, 
A  many  branches  in  one  tissue  joining 
Frames  a  loose  jacket,  whose  light  nimble  quaking, 
Wagged  by  the  winds,  is  like  the  wanton  shaking 
Of  golden  spangles  that,  in  stately  pride, 
Dance  on  the  tresses  of  a  noble  bride. 

But  while  that  Adam,  waxen  diligent, 
Wearies  his  limbs  for  mutual  nourishment, 
While  craggy  mountains,  rocks,  and  thorny  plains 
And  bristly  woods  be  witness  of  his  pains, 
Eve,  walking  forth,  about  the  forests  gathers 
Speights',  parrots',  peacocks',  ostrich'  scattered  feathers 
And  then  with  wax  the  smaller  plumes  she  ceres 
And  sews  the  greater  with  a  white  horse'  hairs; 
For  they  as  yet  did  serve  her  in  the  stead 
Of  hemp  and  tow  and  flax  and  silk  and  thread, 
And  thereof  makes  a  medley  coat,  so  rare 


lOThe  sun — brother  of  the  moon. 


232  THE  STORY  OF  ADAM. 

That  it  resembles  Nature's  mantle  fair, 

When  in  the  sun,  in  pomp  all  glistering, 

She  seems  with  smiles  to  woo  the  gaudy  spring. 

When  by  stolen  moments  this  she  had  contrived, 
Leaping  for  joy,  her  cheerful  looks  revived; 
Sh'admires  her  cunning,  and  incontinent 
'Says  on  herself  her  manly  ornament, 
And  then  through  pathless  paths  she  runs  apace 
To  meet  her  husband,  coming  from  the  chase. 

"Sweetheart,"  quoth  she,  and  then  she  kisseth  him, 
"My  love,  my  life,  my  bliss,  my  joy,  my  gem, 
My  soul's  dear  soul,  take  in  good  part,  I  pray  thee, 
This  pretty  present  that  I  gladly  give  thee." 
"Thanks,  my  dear  all,"  quoth  Adam  then  for  this ; 
And  with  three  kisses  he  requites  her  kiss. 
Then  on  he  puts  his  painted  garment  new, 
And  peacock-like,  himself  doth  often  view, 
Looks  on  his  shadow,  and  in  proud  amaze 
Admires  the  hand  that  had  the  art  to  cause 
So  many  several  parts  to  meet  in  one, 
To  fashion  thus  the  quaint  mandilion.11 

But  when  the  winter's  keener  breath  began 
To  crystallize  the  Baltic  ocean, 
To  glaze  the  lakes  and  bridle  up  the  floods, 
And  periwig  with  wool  the  bald-pate  woods,12 
Our  grandsire,  shrinking,  'gan  to  shake  and  shiver, 
His  teeth  to  chatter,  and  his  beard  to  quiver. 
Spying,  therefore,  a  flock  of  muttons  coming 
Whose  frieze-clad  bodies  feel  not  winter's  numbing, 
He  takes  the  fairest  and  he  knocks  it  down; 
Then  by  good  hap  finding  upon  the  down 
A  sharp,  great  fish-bone  which,  long  time  before, 
The  roaring  flood  had  cast  upon  the  shore, 
He  cuts  the  throat,  flays  it  and  spreads  the  fell; 


iiPerhaps  from  the  Italian  "mandiglione".  Chapman  uses  the  word 
in  his  translation  of  Homer  to  designate  a  soldier's  outer  garment. 

i2These  are  the  lines  which  Dryden  confessed  to  have  greatly  ad- 
mired when  a  boy,  though  afterwards  characterizing  them  as  "abomin- 
able fustian". 


THE  HANDICRAFTS.  233 

Then  dries  it,  pares  it,  and  he  scrapes  it  well; 
Then  clothes  his  wife  therewith,  and  of  such  hides 
Slops,13  hats  and  doublets  for  himself  provides. 
A  vaulted  rock,  a  hollow  tree,  a  cave, 
Were  the  first  buildings  that  them  shelter  gave ; 
But  finding  th'one  to  be  too  moist  a  hold, 
Th'other  too  narrow,  th'other  over  cold, 
Like  carpenters,  within  a  wood  they  choose 
Sixteen  fair  trees  that  never  leaves  do  lose, 
Whose  equal  front  in  quadran  form  prospected, 
As  if  of  purpose  nature  them  erected. 
Their  shady  boughs  first  bow  they  tenderly, 
Then  interbraid  and  bind  them  curiously, 
That  one  would  think,  that  had  this  arbor  seen, 
'T  had  been  true  ceiling,  painted  over  green. 

After  this  trial,  better  yet  to  fence 
Their  tender  flesh  from  th'airy  violence, 
Upon  the  top  of  their  fit-forked  stems 
They  lay  across  bare  oaken  boughs  for  beams, 
Such  as  dispersed  in  the  woods  they  find, 
Torn  off  in  tempests  by  the  stormy  wind. 
Then  these  again  with  leafy  boughs  they  load; 
So  covering  close  their  sorry,  close  abode; 
And  then  they  ply  from  th'eaves  unto  the  ground, 
With  mud-mixt  reeds  to  wall  their  mansion  round ; 
All  save  a  hole  to  th'eastward  situate, 
Where  straight  they  clap  a  hurdle  for  a  gate, 
Instead  of  hinges,  hanged  on  a  withe 
Which,  with  a  sleight,  both  shuts  and  openeth. 

Yet  fire  they  lacked ;  but  lo,  the  winds  that  whistle 
Amid  the  groves,  so  oft  the  laurel  jostle 
Against  the  mulberry,  that  their  angry  claps 
Do  kindle  fire  that  burns  the  neighbor  copse. 

When  Adam  saw  a  ruddy  vapor  rise 
In  glowing  streams,  astound  with  fear  he  flies. 
It  follows  him  until  a  naked  plain 


i3"Slop"  for  outer  garment,  like  "fell"  for  skin,  is  now  obsolete 
except  in  a  compound  or  two.  Both  were  in  common  use  former^, 
however,  and  may  be  found  in  Shakespeare's  plays. 


234  THE  STORY  OF  ADAM. 

The  greedy  fury  of  the  flames  restrain ; 

Then  back  he  turns,  and  coming  somewhat  nigher 

The  kindled  shrubs,  perceiving  that  the  fire 

Dries  his  dank  clothes,  his  color  doth  refresh, 

And  unbenumbs  his  sinews  and  his  flesh, 

By  th'unburned  end  a  good  big14  brand  he  takes, 

And  hieing  home,  a  fire  he  quickly  makes, 

And  still  maintains  it  till  the  starry  Twins' 

Celestial  breath  another  fire  begins. 

But  winter  being  come  again,  it  grieved  him 

T'have  lost  so  fondly  what  so  much  relieved  him, 

Trying  a  thousand  ways,  since  now  no  more 

The  jostling  trees  his  damage  would  restore. 

While  elsewhere  musing,  one  day  he  sat  down 
Upon  a  steep  rock's  craggy,  forked  crown, 
A  foaming  beast,  come  toward  him,  he  spies, 
Within  whose  head  stood  burning  coals  for  eyes; 
Then  suddenly  with  boisterous  arms  he  throws 
A  knobby  flint  that  hummeth  as  it  goes. 
Hence  flies  the  beast;  th'ill  aimed  flint-shaft,  grounding 
Against  the  rock,  and  on  it  oft  rebounding, 
Shivers  to  cinders  whence  there  issued 
Small  sparks  of  fire,  no  sooner  born  than  dead. 
This  happy  chance  made  Adam  leap  for  glee, 
And  quickly  calling  his  cold  company, 
In  his  left  hand  a  shining  flint  he  locks, 
Which  with  another  in  his  right  he  knocks 
So  up  and  down,  that  from  the  coldest  stone 
At  every  stroke  small  fiery  sparkles  shone. 
Then  with  the  dry  leaves  of  a  withered  bay 
The  which  together  handsomely  they  lay; 
Then  take  the  falling  fire,  which  like  a  sun 
Shines  clear  and  smokeless,  in  the  leaf  begun. 

Eve,  kneeling  down  with  hand  her  head  sustaining, 
And  on  the  low  ground  with  her  elbow  leaning, 


W'Good  big"  is  still  a  colloquial  phrase  among  New  Englanders  to 
indicate  a  size  somewhat  larger  than  would  be  understood  by  "big" 
alone.  "Great  long"  used  by  Sylvester  in  his  "Tobacco  Battered"  is 
also  a  survival  at  American  firesides. 


THE  HANDICRAFTS.  235 

Blows  with  her  mouth,  and  with  her  gentle  blowing 
Stirs  up  the  heat  that,  from  the  dry  leaves  glowing, 
Kindles  the  reed,  and  then  that  hollow  kix15 
First  fires  the  small,  and  they  the  greater  sticks. 

And  now  mankind  with  fruitful  race  began 
A  little  corner  of  the  world  to  man. 
First  Cain  is  born,  to  tillage  all  addicted, 
Then  Abel,  most  to  keeping  flocks  affected; 
Abel,  desirous  still  at  hand  to  keep 
His  milk  and  cheese,  unwilds  the  gentle  sheep, 
To  make  a  flock  that,  when  it  tame  became, 
For  guard  and  guide  should  have  a  dog  and  ram. 
Cain,  more  ambitious,  gives  but  little  ease 
To's  boisterous  limbs,  and,  seeing  that  the  peas 
And  other  pulse,  beans,  lentils,  lupins,  rice, 
Burned  in  the  copses  as  not  held  in,  price, 
Some  grains  he  gathers,  and  with  busy  toil 
Apart  he  sows  them  in  a  better  soil, 
Which  first  he  rids  of  stones  and  thorns  and  weeds, 
Then  buries  there  his  dying,  living  seeds. 

By  the  next  harvest,  finding  that  his  pain 
On  this  small  plot  was  not  ingrately  vain, 
To  break  more  ground,  that  bigger  crop  may  bring, 
Without  so  often  weary  laboring, 
He  tames  a  heifer,  and  on  either  side, 
On  either  horn  a  three-fold  twist  he  tied 
Of  osier  twigs,  and  for  a  plough  he  got 
The  horn  or  tooth  of  some  rhinocerot. 

Now  one  in  cattle,  th'other  rich  in  grain, 
On  two  steep  mountains  build  they  altars  twain, 
Where,  humbly  sacred,  th'one  with  zealous  cry 
Cleaves  bright  Olympus'  starry  canopy ; 
With  feigned  lips  the  other  loud  resounded, 
Heart-wanting  hymns  on  self-deserving  founded. 
Each  on  his  altar  offereth  to  the  Lord 
The  best  that  cither's  flocks  or  fields  afford. 

Rein-searching  God,   thought-sounding  Judge,   that 
tries 

iSUsually  written  "kex",  a  hollow  stalk. 


236  THE  STORY  OF  ADAM. 

The  will  and  heart  more  than  the  work  and  guise, 
Accepts  good  Abel's  gift,  but  hates  the  other 
Profane  oblation  of  his  furious  brother, 
Who,  feeling  deep  th'effects  of  God's  displeasure, 
Raves,  frets  and  fumes  and  murmurs  out  of  measure. 

"What  boots  it,  Cain,  O  wretch,  what  boots  it  thee 
T'have  opened  first  the  fruitful  womb,"  quoth  he, 
"Of  the  first  mother  and,  first  born,  the  rather 
T'have  honored  Adam  first  with  name  of  father? 
Unfortunate,  what  boots  thee  to  be  wealthy, 
Wise,  active,  valiant,  strongly  limbed  and  healthy, 
If  this  weak  girl-boy,  in  man's  shape  disguised, 
To  heaven  and  earth  be  dear,  and  thou  despised? 
What  boots  it  thee  for  others,  night  and  day, 
In  painful  toil  to  wear  thyself  away, 
And,  more  for  others'  than  thine  own  relief, 
To  have  devised  of  all  arts  the  chief, 
If  this  dull  infant  of  thy  labor  nursed 
Shall  reap  the  glory  of  thy  deeds  accursed? 
Nay,  rather  quickly  rid  thee  of  the  fool ! 
Down  with  his  climbing  hill,  and  timely  cool 
This  kindling  flame,  and  that  none  overcrowd  thee, 
Reseize  the  right  that  birth  and  virtue  owed  thee." 

Ay  in  his  mind  this  counsel  he  revolves, 
And  hundred  times  to  act  it  he  resolves, 
And  yet  as  oft  relents,  stopped  worthily 
By  the  pain's  horror  and  sin's  tyranny. 
But  one  day,  drawing  with  dissembled  love 
His  harmless  brother  far  into  the  grove, 
Upon  the  verdure  of  whose  virgin  boughs 
Bird  had  not  perched,  nor  never  beast  did  browse, 
With  both  his  hands  he  takes  a  stone,  so  huge 
That  in  our  age  three  men  could  hardly  budge, 
And  just  upon  his  tender  brother's  crown, 
With  all  his  might  he  cruel  casts  it  down. 

The  murdered  face  lies  printed  in  the  mud, 
And  loud  for  vengeance  cries  the  martyred  blood. 
The  battered  brains  fly  in  the  murderer's  face; 
The  sun  to  shun  this  tragic  sight  apace 


THE  HANDICRAFTS.  237 

Turns  back  his  team;  th'amazed  parricide16 
Doth  all  the  furies'  scourging  whips  abide; 
External  terrors  and  th'internal  worm 
A  thousand  kinds  of  living  deaths  do  form. 
All  day  he  hides  him,  wanders  all  the  night, 
Flies  his  own  friends,  of  his  own  shade  afright, 
Scared  at  a  leaf  and  starting  at  a  sparrow, 
And  all  the  world  seems  for  his  fear  too  narrow. 

But  for  his  children,  born  by  three  and  three, 
Produce  him  nephews,17  that  still  multiply 
With  new  increase,  who  ere  their  age  be  rife 
Become  great-grand-sires  in  their  grand-sire's  life. 
Staying  at  length,  he  chose  him  out  a  dwelling, 
For  woods  and  floods  and  air  and  soil  excelling. 

One  fells  down  firs;  another  of  the  same 
With  crossed  poles  a  little  lodge  doth  frame, 
Another  mounds  it  with  dry  walls  about, 
And  leaves  a  breach  for  passage  in  and  out; 
With  turf  and  furze,  some  others  yet  more  gross 
Their  homely  sties,  instead  of  walls,  enclose; 
Some,  like  the  swallow,  mud  and  hay  do  mix, 
And  that  about  their  silly  cotes  they  fix; 
Some  make  their  roofs  with  ferns  or  reeds  or  rushes, 
And  some   with  hides,   with   oase,18  with   boughs  and 
bushes. 

He  that  still  fearful  seeketh  still  defence, 
Shortly  his  hamlet  to  a  town  augments, 
For  with  keen  coulter  having  bounded,  witty, 
The  four-faced  rampire  of  his  simple  city 
With  stones  soon  gathered  on  the  neighbor  strand, 
And  clayey  mortar  ready  there  at  hand, 
Well  trod  and  tempered,  he  immures  his  fort, 
A  stately  tower  erecting  on  the  port, 


i6As  this  is  the  second  appearance  of  the  word  "parricide"  in  the 
sense  of  fratricide,  it  must  be  surmised  that  Sylvester's  learning  is 
at  fault,  though  "fratricide"  is  seen  a  little  further  on,  perhaps  by  fav- 
or of  the  printer. 

i7"Nephews"  formerly  meant  grandchildren  and  posterity  still  fur- 
ther removed. 

iSQsiers. 


238  THE  STORY  OF  ADAM. 

Which  awes  his  own  and  threats  his  enemies, 
Securing  somewhat  his  pale  tyrannies. 

O  tiger !  think'st  thou,  hellish  fratricide, 
Because  with  stone-heaps  thou  art  fortified, 
Prince  of  some  peasants  trained  in  thy  tillage, 
And  silly  kingling  of  a  simple  village, — 
Think'st  thou  to  'scape  the  storm  of  vengeance  dread 
That  hangs  already  o'er  thy  hateful  head? 
No;  wert  thou,  wretch,  encamped  at  thy  will 
On  strongest  top  of  any  steepest  hill, 
Wert  thou  immured  in  triple  brazen  wall, 
Having  for  aid  all  creatures  in  this  all ; 
If  skin  and  heart  of  steel  and  iron  were, 
Thy  pain  thou  couldst  not,  less  avoid  thy  fear, 
Which  chills  thy  blood  and  runs  through  all  thy  veins, 
Racking  thy  bones  with  twenty  thousand  pains. 

Cain,  as  they  say,  by  this  deep  fear  disturbed, 
Then  first  of  all  th'untamed  courser  curbed, 
That  while  about  on  others'  feet  he  run, 
With  dusty  speed  he  might  his  deathsman  shun. 
Among  a  hundred  brave,  light,  lusty  horses, 
With  curious  eye  marking  their  comely  forces, 
He  chooseth  one  for  his  industrious  proof,19 
With  round,  high,  hollow,  smooth,  brown,  jetty  hoof, 
With  pasterns  short,  upright  but  yet  in  mean, 
Dry,  sinewy  shanks,  strong,  fleshless  knees  and  lean, 
With  hart-like  legs,  broad  breast  and  large  behind, 
With  body  large,  smooth  flanks  and  double  chine, 
A  crested  neck  curved  like  a  half  bent  bow, 
Whereon  a  long,  thin  curled  mane  doth  flow ; 
A  firm,  full  tail,  touching  the  lowly  ground, 
With  dock  between  two  fair,  fat  buttocks  drowned; 
A  pricked  ear  that  rests  as  little  space 


l9The  resemblance  between  this  description  and  that  of  Aden's 
horse  in  "Venus  and  Adonis"  is  so  marked  that  one  can  hardly  avoid 
being  interested  in  comparing  the  two.  Both  may  be  taken  from  an 
earlier  description,  but  Shakespeare's  poem  was  certainly  written  be- 
fore Sylvester's  translation,  and  Du  Bartas's  original  was  as  certainly 
published  before  "Venus  and  Adonis"  saw  the  light.  See  Virgil, 
Georgics,  3,  75i. 


THE  HANDICRAFTS.  239 

As  his  light  foot,  a  lean,  bare,  bony  face, 

Thin  jowl  and  head,  but  of  a  middle  size, 

Full,  lively-flaming,  quickly  rolling  eyes; 

Great,  foaming  mouth,  hot,  fuming  nostrils  wide, 

Of  chestnut  hair,  his  forehead  starrified, 

Three  milky  feet,  a  feather  on  his  breast, 

Whom  seven  year  old  at  the  next  grass  he  guessed. 

This  goodly  jennet  gently  first  he  wins, 
And  then  to  back  him  actively  begins. 
Steady  and  straight  he  sits,  turning  his  sight 
Still  to  the  fore  part  of  his  palfrey  light. 
The  chafed  horse  such  thrall  ill  suffering, 
Begins  to  snuff  and  snort,  and  leap  and  fling; 
And  flying  swift,  his  fearful  rider  makes 
Like  some  unskillful  lad  that  undertakes 
To  hold  a  ship's  helm,  while  the  headlong  tide 
Carries  away  the  vessel  and  her  guide, 
Who,  near  devoured  in  the  jaws  of  death, 
Pale,  fearful,  shivering,  faint  and  out  of  breath, 
A  thousand  times  with  heaven-directed  eyes, 
Repents  him  of  so  bold  an  enterprise. 

But  sitting  fast,  less  hurt  than  feared,  Cain 
Boldens  himself  and  his  brave  beast  again ; 
Brings  him  to  pace ;  from  pacing  to  the  trot ; 
From  trot  to  gallop;  after  runs  him  hot  „ 
In  full  career,  and  at  his  courage  smiles, 
And  sitting  still,  to  run  so  many  miles. 

His  pace  is  fair  and  free,  his  trot  as  light 
As  tiger's  course,  as  swallow's  nimble  flight, 
And  his  brave  gallop  seems  as  swift  to  go 
As  Biscayan  darts,  or  shafts  from  Russian  bow ; 
But  roaring  cannon  from  its  smoking  throat 
Never  so  speedy  spews  the  thundering  shot 
That  in  an  army  mows  whole  squadrons  down, 
And  batters  bulwarks  of  a  summoned  town, 
As  this  light  horse  scuds,  if  he  do  but  feel 
His  bridle  slack,  and  in  his  side  the  heel. 
Shunning  himself,  his  sinewy  strength  he  stretches; 
Flying  the  earth,  the  flying  air  he  catches, 
Borne  whirlwind  like ;  he  makes  the  trampled  ground 


240  THE  STORY  OF  ADAM. 

Shrink  under  him,  and  shake  with  doubling  sound. 
And  when  the  sight  no  more  pursue  him  may 
In  fieldy  clouds  he  vanisheth  away. 

The  wise-waxed  rider,  not  esteeming  best 
To  take  too  much  now  of  his  lusty  beast, 
Restrains  his  fury;  then  with  learned  wand 
The  triple  curvet  makes  him  understand. 
With  skillful  voice  he  gently  cheers  his  pride, 
And  on  his  neck  his  flattering20  palm  doth  slide. 
He  stops  him  steady,  still  new  breath  to  take, 
And  in  the  same  path  brings  him  softly  back. 

But  th'angry  steed,  rising  and  rearing  proudly, 
Striking  the  stones,  stamping  and  neighing  loudly, 
Calls  for  the  combat;  plunges,  leaps  and  prances, 
Befoams  the  path;  with  sparkling  eyes  he  glances, 
Champs  on  his  burnished  bit,  and  gloriously 
His  nimble  fetlocks  lifteth  belly  high, 
All  sidelong  jaunts,  on  either  side  he  jostles, 
And's  waving  crest  courageously  he  bristles,21 
Making  the  gazers  glad  on  every  side 
To  give  more  room  unto  his  portly  pride. 

Cain  gently  strokes  him,  and  now  sure  in  seat, 
Ambitiously  seeks  still  some  fresher  feat ; 
To  be  more  famous  one  while  trots  the  ring, 
Another  while  he  doth  him  backward  bring;22 
Then  of  all  four  he  makes  him:  lightly  bound, 
And  to  each  hand  to  manage  rightly  round; 
To  stoop,  to  stop,  to  caper  and  to  swim, 
To  dance,  to  leap,  to  hold  up  any  limb, 
And  all  so  done  with  time,  grace,  ordered  skill, 
As  both  had  but  one  body  and  one  will. 
Th'one  for  his  art  no  little  glory  gains, 
Th'other  through  practice  by  degrees  attains 


20Caressing. 

2iCauses  to  stand  erect.  See  the  lines  in  "The  Furies"  referred  to 
by  note  29  of  that  subdivision. 

22The  use  of  "while"  as  a  substantive  is  now  infrequent  except 
colloquially.  "Once  in  a  while"  is  the  phrase  most  commonly  heard 
with  "while"  as  a  noun,  but  the  locution  in  the  text  has  not  wholly 
disappeared  in  America. 


THE  HANDICRAFTS.  241 

Grace  in  his  gallop,  in  his  pace  agility, 
Lightness  of  head  and  in  his  stop,  facility, 
Strength  in  his  leap,  and  steadfast  managings, 
Aptness  in  all,  and  in  his  course  new  wings. 

The  use  of  horses  thus  discovered, 
Each  to  his  work  more  cheerly  settled, 
Each  plies  his  trade,  and  travels  for  his  age, 
Following  the  paths  of  painful  Tubal  sage. 

While  through  a  forest  Tubal  with  his  yew 
And  ready  quiver  did  a  boar  pursue, 
A  burning  mountain  from  its  fiery  vein 
An  iron  river  rolls  along  the  plain. 
The  witty  huntsman  musing,  thither  hies, 
And  of  the  wonder  deeply  'gan  devise, 
And  first  perceiving  that  this  scalding  metal, 
Becoming  cold,  in  any  shape  would  settle, 
And  grow  so  hard  that  with  its  sharpened  side 
The  firmest  substance  it  would  soon  divide, 
He  casts  a  hundred  plots,  and  ere  he  parts, 
He  moulds  the  groundwork  of  a  hundred  arts. 
Like  as  a  hound,  that  following  loose  behind 
His  pensive  master,  of  a  hare  doth  find; 
Leaves  whom  he  loves,  upon  the  scent  doth  ply, 
Figs  to  and  fro,  and  falls  in  cheerful  cry, 
And  with  uplifted  head  and  nostril  wide, 
Winding  his  game,  snuffs  up  the  wind,  his  guide ; 
A  hundred  ways  he  measures  vale  and  hill, 
Ears,  eyes  nor  nose,  nor  foot  nor  tail  are  still, 
Till  in  her  hot  form,  he  hath  found  the  prey 
That  he  so  long  hath  fought  for  every  way. 

For  now  the  way  to  thousand  works  revealed 
Which  long  shall  live,  maugre  the  rage  of  eld, 
Into  square  creases  of  unequal  sizes, 
To  turn  two  iron  streamlings  he  devises; 
Cold  takes  them  thence,  then  off  the  dross  he  rakes, 
And  this  a  hammer,  that  an  anvil  makes; 
And  adding  tongs  to  these  two  instruments, 
He  stores  his  house  with  iron  implements, 
As  forks,  rakes,  hatchets,  ploughshares,  coulters,  staples, 


242  THE  STORY  OF  ADAM. 

Bolts,  hinges,  hooks,  nails,  whittles,  spokes  and  grap- 
ples; 

And  grown  more  cunning,  hollow  things  he  formeth, 
He  hatcheth  files,  and  winding  vises  wormeth ; 
He  shapeth  shears,  and  then  a  saw  indents, 
Then  beats  a  blade,  and  then  a  lock  invents. 

Happy  device !  we  might  as  well  want  all 
The  elements,  as  this  hard  mineral. 
This  to  the  ploughman  for  great  uses  serves ; 
This  for  the  builder  wood  and  marble  carves; 
This  arms  our  bodies  against  adverse  force; 
This  clothes  our  backs;  this  rules  th'unruly  horse; 
This  makes  us  dry-shod  dance  in  Neptune's  hall; 
This  brightens  gold ;  this  conquers  self  and  all ; 
Fifth  element;  of  instruments  the  haft; 
The  tool  of  tools  and  hand  of  handicraft. 

While,  compassed  round  with  smoking  Cyclops  rude, 
Half  naked  Bronts,  and  Sterops  swarthy  hued — 
All  well  near  w'eary — sweating  Tubal  stands, 
Hastening  the  hot  work  in  their  sounding  hands, 
No  time  lost  Jubal.     Th'unfull  harmony 
Of  uneven  hammers  beating  diversely 
Wakens  the  tunes  that  his  sweet,  numbery  soul 
Ere  birth,  some  think,  learned  of  the  warbling  pole. 

Thereon  he  harps  and  ponders  in  his  mind, 
And  glad  and  fain  some  instrument  would  find, 
That  in  accord  those  discords  might  renew, 
And  th'iron  anvil's  rattling  sound  ensue,23 
And  iterate  the  beating  hammer's  noise 
In  milder  notes,  and  with  a  sweeter  voice. 
It  chanced  that,  passing  by  a  pond,  he  found 
An  open  tortoise  lying  on  the  ground, 
Within  the  which  there  nothing  else  remained 
Save  three  dry  sinews,  on  the  shell  .stiff  strained. 
This  empty  house  Jubal  doth  gladly  bear; 
Strikes  on  those  strings,  and  lends  attentive  ear; 
And  by  this  mould  frames  the  melodious  lute, 
That  makes  woods  hearken  and  the  winds  be  mute, 

23Follow.    Often  used  transitively. 


THE  HANDICRAFTS.  243 

The  hills  to  dance,  the  heavens  to  retrograde, 
Lions  be  tame,  and  tempests  quickly  vade. 

His  art,  still  waxing,  sweetly  marrieth 
His  quavering  fingers  to  his  warbling  breath. 
More  little  tongues  t'his  charm-care  lute  he  brings; 
More  instruments  he  makes;  no  echo  rings 
Mid  rocky  concaves  of  the  babbling  vales 
And  bubbling  rivers,  rolled  with  gentle  gales, 
But  wiry  cymbals,  rebecks'  sinews  twined, 
Sweet  virginals,  and  cornets'  curled  wind. 

But  Adam  guides,  through  paths  but  seldom;  gone, 
His  other  sons  to  virtue's  sacred  throne, 
And  chiefly  Seth  set  in  good  Abel's  place, 
Staff  of  his  age,  and  glory  of  his  race. 
Him  he  instructed  in  the  ways  of  verity 
To  worship  God  in  spirit  and  sincerity, 
To  honor  parents  with  a  reverent  awe, 
To  train  his  children  in  religious  law, 
To  love  his  friends,  his  country  to  defend, 
And  helpful  hands  to  all  mankind  to  lend, 
To  know  heavens'  course,  and  how  their  constant  sways 
Divide  the  year  in  months,  the  months  in  days, 
What  star  brings  winter,  what  is  summer's  guide, 
What  sign  foul  weather,  what  doth  fair  betide, 
What  creature's  kind  and  what  is  cursed  to  us, 
What  plant  is  wholesome  and  what  venomous, 

No  sooner  he  his  lessons  can  commence 
But  Seth  hath  hit  the  white  of  his  intents; 
Draws  rule  from  rule,  and  of  his  short  collations 
In  a  short  time  a  perfect  art  he  fashions. 
The  more  he  knows  the  more  he  craves,  as  fuel 
Kills  not  a  fire  but  kindles  it  more  cruel. 

While  on  a  day  by  a  clear  brook  they  travel, 
Whose  gurgling  streams  frizadoed24  on  the  gravel, 


24Frisado  is  a  Spanish  word  meaning  silk  plush  or  woolen  goods 
of  long  nap.  It  might  have  borne  a  somewhat  different  signification 
300  years  ago.  Many  Spanish  words  were  adopted  about  that  time,  as 
armada,  barricade,  bravado,  desperado,  grenade,  parade,  tornado,  etc. 
Trench  says  that  the  scholars  and  statesmen  of  Elizabeth's  reign 
were  rarely  ignorant  of  the  Spanish  language. 


244  THE  STORY  OF  ADAM. 

He  thus  bespake :     "If  that  I  did  not  see 
The  zeal,  dear  father,  that  you  bear  to  me, — 
How  still  you  watch  me  with  your  careful  eyen, 
How  still  your  voice  with  prudent  discipline 
My  prentice  ear  doth  oft  reverberate, 
I  should  misdoubt  to  seem  importunate, 
And  should  content  me  to  have  learned  how 
The  Lord  the  heavens  about  this  all  did  bow; 
What  things  have  hot,  and  what  have  cold  effect, 
And  how  my  life  and  manners  to  direct. 
But  your  mild  love  my  studious  heart  advances 
To  ask  you  further  of  the  various  chances 
Of  future  times ;  what  offspring  spreading  wide 
Shall  fill  this  world;  what  shall  the  world  betide; 
How  long  to  last;  what  magistrates,  what  kings, 
With  justice'  mace  shall  govern  mortal  things?" 

"Son,"  quoth  the  sire,  "our  thought's  internal  eye 
Things  past  and  present  may  by  means  descry, 
But  not  the  future,  if  by  special  grace 
It  read  it  not  in  th'One-Trine's  glorious  face." 

"Thou,  then,  that  only  things  to  come  dost  know, 
Not  by  heaven's  course  nor  guess  of  things  below, 
Nor  coupled  points,  nor  flight  of  fatal  birds, 
Nor  trembling  tripes  of  sacrificed  herds, 
But  by  a  clear  and  certain  prescience, 
As  seer  and  agent  of  all  accidents, 
With  whom  at  once  the  threefold  times  do  fly, 
And  but  a  moment  lasts  eternity — 
O  God,  behold  me,  that  I  may  behold 
Thy  crystal  face!     O  Sun,  reflect  thy  gold 
On  my  pale  moon,  that  now  my  veiled  eyes 
Earthward  eclipsed,  may  shine  unto  the  skies! 
Ravish  me,  Lord !     O  my  soul's  Life,  revive 
My  spirit  apace,  that  I  may  see  alive 
Heaven,  ere  I  die,  and  make  me  now,  good  Lord, 
The  echo  of  Thy  all-celestial  word." 

With  sacred  fury  suddenly  he  glows; 


THE  HANDICRAFTS.  245 

Not  like  the  Bedlam  Bacchanalian  froes,25 
Who  dancing,  foaming,  rolling  furious-wise 
Under  their  twinkling  lids  their  torch-like  eyes, 
With  ghastly  voice,  with  visage  grisly,  grim, 
Tossed  by  the  fiend  that  fiercely  tortures  them, 
Bleaking  and  blushing,  panting,  shrieking,  swooning, 
With  wrathless  wounds  their  senseless  members  wound- 
ing;— 

But  as  th'imperial,  airy  people's  prince,26 
With  stately  pinions  soaring  high  from  hence, 
Cleaves  through  the  clouds,  and  bravely  bold,  doth  think 
With  his  firm  eye  to  make  the  sun's  eye  wink, 
So  Adam,  mounted  on  the  burning  wings 
Of  a  seraphic  love,  leaves  earthly  things, 
Feeds  on  sweet  ether,  cleaves  the  starry  spheres, 
And  on  God's  face  his  eyes  he  fixtly  bears ; 
His  brows  seem  brandished  with  a  sun-like  fire, 
And  his  purged  body  seems  a  cubit  higher. 

Then  thus  began  he :     "Th'ever  trembling  field 
Of  scaly  folk,  the  arch's  starry  field 
Where  th'All-Creator  hath  disposed  well 
The  sun  and  moon  by  turns  for  sentinel, 
The  clear  cloud-bounding  air,  the  camp  assigned 
Where  angry  Auster  and  the  rough  north  wind, 
Meeting  in  battle,  throw  down  to  the  soil 
The  woods  that  middling  stand  to  part  the  broil; 
The  diapry  mansions  where  mankind  doth  trade; 
Were  built  in  six  days,  and  the  seventh  was  made 
The  sacred  Sabbath.     So  sea,  earth,  and  air 
And  azure-gilded  heaven's  pavilions  fair, 
Shall  stand  six  days,  but  longer  diversely 
Than  the  days  bounded  by  the  world's  bright  eye. 


25Variant  orthographically  of  "frow",  having  the  same  origin  as 
the  German  "Frau",  and  earlier  the  same  "meaning.  By  Elizabeth's 
time  it  had  come  to  be  a  contemptuous  term  applicable  to  women  of 
disreputable  character. 

26The  eagle. 


246  THE  STORY  OF  ADAM. 

"The  first  begins  with  me<.     The  second's  morn27 
Is  the  first  shipwright,  who  doth  first  adorn 
The  hills  with  vines.     That  shepherd  is  the  third, 
That  after  God  through  strange  lands  leads  his  herd, 
And  past  man's  reason  crediting  God's  word, 
His  only  son  slays  with  a  willing  sword. 
The  fourth's  another  valiant  shepherdling, 
That  for  a  cannon  takes  his  silly  sling, 
And  to  a  scepter  turns  his  shepherd's  staff; 
Great  prince,  great  prophet,  poet,  psalmograph. 
The  fifth  begins  from  that  sad  prince's  night 
That  sees  his  children  murdered  in  his  sight, 
And,  on  the  banks  of  fruitful  Euphrates, 
Poor  Judah  led  in  captive  heaviness. 
Hoped  Messiah  shineth  in  the  sixth, 
Who,  mocked,  beat,  banished,  buried,  crucifixt, 
For  our  foul  sins,  still  fleshly  innocent, 
Hath  fully  borne  the  hateful  punishment. 
The  last  shall  be  the  very  resting  day. 
Th'air  shall  be  mute,  the  water's  work  shall  stay, 
The  earth  her  store,  the  stars  shall  leave  their  measures, 
The  sun  his  shine,  and  in  eternal  pleasures 
We,  plunged  in  heaven,  shall  ay  solemnize  all 
Th'eternal  Sabbath's  endless  festival.28 

"Alas,  what  may  I  of  that  race  presume, 
Next  th'ireful  flame  that  shall  this  frame  consume, 
Whose  gut  their  God,  whose  lust  their  law  shall  be, 
Who  shall  not  hear  of  God  nor  yet  of  me, 
Since  those  outrageous  that  began  their  birth 


27Du  Bartas  here  explains  what  he  means  by  his  "second  week",  of 
which  these  pages  form  the  conclusion  of  the  first  day.  His  division 
of  the  "days"  of  the  second  week  into  fractional  parts,  however,  made 
so  awkward  and  unintelligible  a  construction  that  it  has  been  thought 
best  to  ignore  the  hebdomadal  idea  altogether  in  what  follows  the  week 
of  creation. 

28The  foregoing,  being  interpreted,  is  to  the  effect  that  the  titles  of 
the  seven  parts  of  the  second  "week"  are  to  be  respectively  "Adam", 
"Noah",  "Abraham",  "David",  "Zedekiah",  "Messiah",  and  "The  Eternal 
Sabbath".  Only  the  four  first  named  were  completed  when  the  death 
of  the  author  occurred  in  1590,  from  wounds  received  while  fighting 
under  Henry  IV  at  the  battle  of  Ivry. 


THE  HANDICRAFTS.  247 

On  the  holy  groundsill  of  sweet  Eden's  earth, 

And  yet  the  sound  of  Heaven's  dread  sentence  hear, 

And  as  eyewitness  of  my  exile  were, 

Seem  to  despite  God.     Did  it  not  suffice, 

O  lustful  soul,  first  to  polygamize? 

Sufficed  it  not,  O-  Lamech,  to  distain 

Thy  nuptial  bed,  but  that  thou  must  ingrain 

In  thy  great  grand-sire's  grand-sire's  reeking  gore 

Thy  cruel  blade;  respecting  nought  before 

The  prohibition,  and  the  threatening  vow 

Of  Him  to  whom  infernal  powers  do  bow, 

Neither  His  passport's  sealed  character 

Set  in  the  forehead  of  the  murderer? 

"Courage,  good  Enos,  re-advance  the  standard 
Of  holy  faith  by  human  reason  slandered, 
And,  trodden  down,  invoke  th'immortal  Power. 
Upon  his  altars  warm  blood-offerings  pour; 
His  sacred  nose29  perfume  with  sacred  vapor, 
And  teend30  again  truth's  near  extinguished  taper. 

"Thy  pupil  Enoch,  selfly  dying  wholly, 
(Earth's  ornament,)  to  God  he  liveth  solely. 
Lo,  how  he  labors  to  endure  the  light 
Which  in  th'arch-essence  shineth  glorious  bright; 
How  wrapt  from  sense  and  freed  from  fleshly  lets,31 
Sometimes  he  climbs  the  sacred  cabinets 
Of  the  divine  ideas  everlasting, 

Having  for  wings  faith,  fervent  prayer  and  fasting! 
How  at  some  times,  though  clad  in  earthly  clod, 
He,  sacred,  sees,  feels,  all  enjoys  in  God ; 
How  at  some  times,  mounting  from  form  to  form,32 
In  form  of  God  he  happy  doth  transform. 


29It  might  be  difficult  to  explain  why  a  sacred  nose  should  not  be 
as  awe-inspiring  as  sacred  lips,  for  instance;  but  the  fact  remains  that 
the  former  is  not  generally  accepted  in  that  way,  and  the  epithet  must 
be  relegated  to  the  same  shelf  with  the  snowy  periwig  against  which 
the  adult  Dryden  filed  objections  that  had  not  occurred  to  him  in 
earlier  years. 

30Kindle.     "Teend"  seems  to  have  the  same  root  as  "tinder". 

SiHindrances. 

32Referring  to  the  forms  in  schools  from  one  to  another  of  which 
students  are  promoted. 


248  THE  STORY  OF  ADAM. 

Lo,  how  th'All  Fair,  as  burning  all  in  love, 

With  His  rare  beauties  not  content  above, 

T'have  half,  but  all,  and  ever  sets  the  stairs 

That  lead  from  hence  to  heaven  His  chosen  heirs. 

Lo,  now  he  climbeth  the  supernal  stories. 

Adieu,  dear  Enoch !     In  eternal  glories 

Dwell  there  with  God !     Thy  body,  changed  to  quality 

Of  spirit  or  angel,  puts  on  immortality. 

Thine  eyes,  already  now  no  longer  eyes, 

But  new  bright  stars,  do  brandish  in  the  skies. 

Thou  drinkest  deep  of  the  celestial  wine; 

Thy  sabbath's  endless.     Without  veil  in  fine 

Thou  seest  God  face  to  face,  and  near  unite 

To  th'one-trine  Good,  thou  liv'st  in  th'infinite. 

"But  here  the  while,  new  angel,  thou  dost  leave 
Fell,  wicked  folk,  whose  hands  are  apt  to  'reave, 
Whose  scorpion  tongues  delight  in  sowing  strife, 
Whose  guts  are  gulfs  incestuous  all  their  life. 

"O,  .strange  to  be  believed,  the  blessed  race, 
The  sacred  flock  whom  God  by  special  grace 
Adopts  for  His, — even  they,  alas,  most  shameless, 
Do  follow  sin  most  beastly,  brute,  and  tameless; 
With  lustful  eyes  choosing  for  wanton  spouses 
Men's  wicked  daughters,  mingling  so  the  houses 
Of  Seth  and  Cain,  preferring  foolishly 
Frail  beauty's  blaze  to  virtuous  modesty. 
From  these  profane,  foul,  cursed  kisses  sprung 
A  cruel  brood,  feeding  on  blood  and  wrong, 
Fell  giants,  strange  of  haughty  hand  and  mind, 
Plagues  of  the  world  and  scourges  of  mankind. 

"Then,  righteous  God,  though  ever  prone  to  pardon, 
Seeing  His  mildness  but  their  mildness  harden, 
List33  plead  no  longer,  but  resolves  the  fall 
Of  man  forthwith,  and  for  man's  sake,  of  all. 
Of  all,  at  least,  the  living  creatures  gliding 
Along  the  air,  or  on  the  earth  abiding. 
Heaven's  crystal  windows  with  one  hand  he  opes, 


33As  in  the  sentence:     "They  have  done  unto  him  whatsoever  they 
listed."— Matthew  XVII,  12. 


THE  HANDICRAFTS.  249 

Whence  on  the  world  a  thousand  seas  he  drops, 

With  th'other  hand  he  grips,  and  wringeth  forth 

The  spungy  globe  of  th'execrable  earth, 

So  straitly  pressed  that  it  doth  straight  restore 

All  liquid  floods  that  it  had  drunk  before. 

In  every  rock  new  rivers  do  begin, 

And  to  his  aid  the  snows  come  tumbling  in. 

The  pines  and  cedars  have  but  boughs  to  show, 

The  shores  do  shrink,  the  swelling  waters  grow. 

"Alas,  so  many  nephews34  lose  I  here 
Amid  these  deeps,  that,  but  for  mountains  near, 
Upon  the  rising  of  whose  ridges  lofty 
The  lusty  climb  on  every  side  for  safety, 
I  should  be  seedless;  but,  alas,  the  water 
Swallows  those  hills,  and  all  this  wide  theater 
Is  all  one  pond.     O  children,  whither  fly  you? 
Alas,  heaven's  wrath  pursues  you  to  destroy  you! 
The  stormy  waters  strangely  rage  and  roar, 
Rivers  and  seas  have  all  one  common  shore, — 
To-wit,  a  sable,  water-laden  sky, 
Ready  to  rain  new  oceans  instantly. 

"O  sonless  father!     O  too  fruitful  haunches! 
O  wretched  root!     O  hurtful,  hateful  branches! 
O  gulfs  unknown !     O  dungeons  deep  and  black ! 
O  world's  decay !     O  universal  wrack ! 
O  heavens,  O  seas,  O  earth,  now  earth  no  more! 
O  flesh,  O  blood!" — Here  sorrow  stopped  the  door 
Of  his  sad  voice ;  and  almost  dead  for  woe, 
The  prophetizing  spirit  left  him  so.35 

34See  note  17,  ante. 

35it  has  been  shown  (note  6,  ante)  that  an  interpolation  in  this  sec- 
tion was  probably  written  in  1602  or  1603.  Shakespeare's  Midsummer 
Night's  Dream  was  first  printed  in  1600,  unless  the  late  theories  of 
experts  that  these  quartos  bear  dates  anterior  to  their  publication  are 
correct.  But  in  any  event  the  lament  of  Pyramus  over  Thisbe's  death 
which  Theseus  declared  was  a  "passion  would  go  near  to  make  a 
man  look  sad",  seems  to  be  in  the  nature  of  a  parody  on  the  conclusion 
of  Adam's  "prophetizing".  The  love  affair  in  the  Dream  which  in- 
volved the  subvention  of  fairies  with  their  vegetable  juice  for  lovers' 
eyes,  was  almost  certainly  founded  upon  Sylvester's  early  poem  of 
"The  Woodman's  Bear;"  (reprinted  by  The  Blue  Sky  Press,  Chicago, 
1906)  and  probably  other  allusions  in  the  play  to  the  work  of  the 
puritan  poet  might  be  discovered  by  close  attention. 


APPENDIX 


EPISTLE  TO  ROBERT  NICOLSON 

Though  providence  all  prudent  have  decreed 
To  hold  me  still  under  the  tyrant,  Need; 
So  hard  and  scant  that  scarce  a  breathing  while 
My  care-full  life  hath  had  just  cause  to  smile, 
Of  all  the  wants  I  feel,  of  all  the  woes — 
Witness  Heart-Searcher  which  all  secrets  knows — 
None  woundeth  deeper  my  distressful  breast 
Than  want  of  power  to  parallel  the  least 
Of  thousand  favors,  of  a  thousand  kinds 
Vouchsafed  me  from  many  noble  minds, 
Among  which  number,  neither  least  nor  last 
In  my  memorial  is  your  merit  placed; 
The  constant  kindness  of  whose  cordial  love 
From  my  best  thought  shall  never  aught  remove. 

For  though,  alas,  my  fates  no  means  afford 
To  quit  good  turns,  my  faith  shall  them  record, 
And  sue  with  sighs  unto  th'  eternal  Throne, 
My  friends  may  reap  what  they  have  kindly  sown; 
So  that  for  one  they  may  have  seven  times  seven 
In  earth  of  grace,  of  glory  more  in  heaven. 

Hereby  in  part  you  may  perceive,  report 
Hath  bruited  false  my  fortunes  in  the  court. 
The  King  indeed,  whose  bounty  is  renowned, 
Now  five  years  since  gave  me  five  hundred  pound 


2f>2  APPENDIX. 

Of  debts  long  due  to  our  late  royal  maid1 
Which  never  were  nor  never  will  be  paid, 
Because  Prince  Henry,  who  devised  the  plot, 
Died  suddenly  ere  anything  was  got; 
Nor  could  I  since  have  light  of  anything, 
Wherein  to  seek  the  favor  of  the  King. 

My  gracious  Prince!     O  how  his  name  doth  pierce 
My  grieved  soul,  and  sables  all  my  verse! 
Henry,  my  whole  and  sole  Macaenas  late, 
With  princely  pension  did  relieve  my  state; 
With  princely  purpose  to  have  deigned  me  room 
Of  grace  and  gain — his  privy  chamber-groom. 
But  he  is  dead,  alas,  and  with  him  died 
My  present  help  and  future  hope  beside; 
So  that,  with  Job,  I  murmur  not,  but  mourn, 
"Naked  I   came,  and  naked  shall  return." 

His  will  be  done  that  can  do  what  He  will; 
He  to  us  all  is  all-sufficient  still ; 
For  at  all  times,  in  all  extremest  straits 
His  sacred  arm — our  secret  army — waits 
To  succor  us,   and  in  all  various  sort, 
Our  wants,   our  weakness,  to  supply,   support; 
Whereof  mine  own  proofs  pass  mine  own  account, 
And  past  examples  past  all  numbers  mount. 

What  shall  I  then  repay  His  providence, 
His   goodness,    bounty   and   beneficence, 
For  all  His  mercies  and  for  every  one, 
Beside,  beyond,  yea,  against,  hope  bestown 
On  me  whose  sins  might  more  His  wrath  incense? 

lApparently  the  right  to  collect  indebtedness  which  the  government 
had  been  unable  to  collect  for  itself.  Prince  Henry  died  Nov.  6,  1612, 
aged  18.  He  was  detested  by  James,  whose  ill-will  extended  beyond 
the  grave. 


APPENDIX.  253 

What  can  I  give  my  friends  for  recompense 

Of  all  their  favors  severally  shown — 

Unsought,  unthought,  unknowing,  some  unknown 

To  me,  the  least  in  my  most  indigence — 

But  laud  the  Author,  love  His  instruments, 

Praise  Him  for  all,  and  pray  for  all  their  weal 

Whose  hearts  He  moves  by  faith,  with  hope  and  zeal, 

To  succor  Art's  poor,  humble  innocents, 

As  you  on  me  and  mine,  heap  sweet  contents? 

So,  manifold  be  multiplied  to  you 
All  earthly  goods,  Heaven's  grace,  and  glory  too. 
To  you  and  yours  so  ever  I  beseech 
Th'  Eternal  grant  His  treasure  truly  rich; 
And  so  I  rest  as  ever  by  desert 

Much  bound  to  you  and  your  "Soon  Calm  in  Hart;"2 
In  hearty  love,  though  lacking  helpful  powers. 
Unfeigned,  faithful  and  as  thankful,  yours. 

This  messenger,  your  brother  and  our  friend, 
Gave  first  occasion  these  few  lines  to  send ; 
With  these  few  tears  that  have  been  lately  shed 
For  two  great  Henrys,  too  untimely  dead,3 
A  sigh  for  Sidney  and  the  "Map  of  Man." 
These  if  you  please  mildly  awhile  to  scan, 
Ere  many  months  (or  weeks,  I  hope)  expire, 
Except  the  heavens  still  envy  my  desire, 
I'll  send,  or  show  you,  ere  the  press  prevent, 


2This  is  a  favorite  anagram  with  Sylvester  of  the  name  of  Martha 
Nicolson,  wife  of  Robert.  It  would  seem  to  indicate  a  hasty  temper 
on  the  part  of  the  lady. 

3The  other  was  Henry  IV  of  France,  assassinated  May  14,  1610. 
Sylvester  says  elsewhere: 

"When  great  French  Henry  fates  bereft, 
His  name  and  fame  to  ours  he  left." 

The  "tears"  are  the  elegiac  leaflets  published  by  Sylvester  on  the 
deaths  of  the  prince  and  Sir  William  Sidney. 


254  APPENDIX. 

My  "Little  Bartas"  and  my  "Parliament 
Of  Royal  Virtues,"  summoned  long  since, 
And  now  assembled  to  create  a  prince 
Such  as  was  Henry  while  he  was  with  us, 
And  Charles  will  be,  we  hope,  "Panaretus  ;"4 
Of  whom  no  more  till  face  to  face  we  meet, 
To  view  avie  our  papers,  sheet  for  sheet. 


A  HEBREW  COURTSHIP 

(From  David — The  Magnificence) 

HE 

O  bright-eyed  virgin,  O  how  fair  thou  art ! 

O  how  I  love  thee,  my  snow-winged  dove ! 
O  how  I  love  thee !    Thou  hast  rapt  my  heart ; 

For  thee  I  die;  for  thee  I  live,  my  love. 

SHE 

How  fair  art  thou,  my  dear;  how  dear  to  me, 

Dear  soul!  Awake  I  faint,  I  sink,  I  swoon 

At  thy  dear  sight ;  and  when  I  sleep,  for  thee 

Within  my  breast  still  wakes  my  sharp,  sweet  wound. 

HE 

My  love,  what  odors  thy  sweet  tress  it  yields ! 

What  ambergris,  what  incense  breath'st  thou  out 
From  purple  fillets!  and  what  myrrh  distils 

Still  from  thy  fingers,  ring'd  with  gold  about ! 

4The  quotations  are  of  titles  of  some  of  Sylvester's  productions. 


APPENDIX.  255 

SHE 

Sweetheart,  how  sweet's  the  odor  of  thy  praise ! 

O  what  sweet  airs  doth  thy  sweet  air  deliver 
Unto  my  burning  soul ;  what  honeyed  lays 

Flow  from  thy  throat — thy  throat  a  golden  river! 

HE 

Among  the  flowers,  my  flower's  a  rose,  a  lily; 

A  rose,  a  lily — this  a  bud,  that  blown. 
This  fragrant  flower  first  of  all  gather  will  I, 

Smell  to  it,  kiss  it,  wear  it  as  mine  own. 

SHE 

Among  the  trees  my  love's  an  apple  tree 

Thy  fruitful  stem  bears  flower  and  fruit  together; 

I'll  smell  thy  flower,  thy  fruit  shall  nourish  me, 
And  in  thy  shadow  will  I  rest  forever. 


TO  THE  MILITANT  CHRISTIAN 

Thou  must  be  valiant,  and  with  dauntless  breast 
Rush  through  the  thickest,  run  upon  the  best 
Of  braving  foes;  and  on  their  flight  and  foil 
Rear  noble  trophies  of  triumphant  spoil. 
For  this  world's  prince,  dark  Limbo's  potentate, 
Drifts  Man's  destruction,  and  with  deadly  hate 
Still  strifeful  labors,  and  by  all  means  seeks 
To  trouble  all,  and  heaven  with  hell  to  mix. 


256  APPENDIX. 

SONNET  I 

There  needs  no  praising  of  a  perfect  creature; 
There  needs  no  sign  to  help  good  wine  away ; 
There  needs  no  candle  to  commend  the  day; 

There  needs  no  foil  to  grace  a  faultless  feature ; 
Nor  needs  our  friend  my  fameless  pen's  obscureness 

To  give  a  luster  to  its  lightsome  glass, 

Since  the  bright  substance  of  the  same  doth  pass 
The  clearest  crystal  far,  for  price  and  pureness. 

Who  list  to  look  in  his  fair  glass  shall  find 
Fair  Albion,  full  of  life-prolonging  smiles, 
Choice  queen  of  beauties  and  the  chief  of  isles — 

World's  wonder  and  the  maze  of  every  mind. 
Then  who  can  see  such  beauties  and  refrain 
To  praise  the  hand  that  took  such  happy  pain? 


Thrice  toss  these  oaken  ashes  in  the  air, 
And  thrice  three  times  tie  up  this  true-love's  knot ; 

Thrice  sit  thee  down  in  this  enchanted  chair, 
And  murmur  soft,  "She  will,"  or  "She  will  not." 

Go,  burn  these  poison'd  weeds  in  that  blue  fire, 
This  cypress,  gathered  at  a  dead  man's  grave, 

These  screech-owls'  feathers,  and  this  pricking  briar, 
That  all  thy  thorny  cares  an  end  may  have. 

Then  come  you  fairies,  dance  with  me  a  round; 
Dance  in  this  circle,  let  my  love  be  center, 

Melodiously  breathe  out  a  charming  sound; 
Melt  her  hard  heart  that  some  remorse  may  enter. 

In  vain  are  all  the  charms  I  can  devise; 

She  hath  an  art  to  break  them  with  her  eyes. 


APPENDIX.  257 

SONNET  III 

As  in  the  deadness  of  the  silent  night 
A  dream  doth  forge  strange  shadows  of  delight, 
So  thy  fair  image  in  my  fancy  wrought, 
Presenting   wonders    to   my    troubled   thought; 
For  still,  methinks  that  I  do  either  hear 
Thy  voice,  as  any  challenged  echo  clear — 
Thy  voice  that  makes  the  silver  strings  contend 
How  they  may  best  thy  most  fine  fingers  bend — 
Or  that  I  see  thy  feet  in  measures  fall, 
And  then  I  start,  as  one  distraught  withal. 
I  die;  revive  me,  that  it  may  be  said 
Your  beauty  can  put  life  into  the  dead. 


SONNET  IV 

Love,  do  thy  worst ;  use  all  thy  tyrannies, 

And  as  thou  list,  torment  and  torture  me; 
I'll  ne'er  relent,  nor  shalt  thou  ever  see 

Me  cease  to  serve  her  ever  sacred  eyes. 

I  know  my  fault,  and  knowing  I  confess  it; 

Like  th'  Argive  lad  I  took  my  flight  too  high; 

But  what  of  that?     There's  now  no  remedy, 
Unless,  perhaps,  propitious  Death  redress  it. 

Back,  reason,  then,  thou  dost  in  vain  advise  me; 
If  Death  prevent  me,  then  my  pain  expires, 
And  honored  Death  doth  wait  on  high  desires. 

I  must  proceed,  whatever  end  arise  me. 

If  it  were  pride  at  first  to  undertake  it, 
'T  were  cowardice  now  faintly  to  forsake  it. 


258  APPENDIX. 

SONNET  V 

Ev'n  as  the  timely,  sweet,  heat-tempering  showers 
Feed  the  faint  earth  and  clothe  it  all  with  green, 

With  grain  and  grass,  and  plants  and  fruit  and  flowers, 
Whereby  the  beauty  of  the  world  is  seen ; 

Ev'n  so  my  tears,  tempering  mine  inward  fire, 

Do  feed  my  love  and  foster  my  desire. 
And  as  a  sudden  and  a  stormy  rain 

Makes  Flora's  children  hang  their  painted  heads, 
And  beateth  down  the  pride  of  Ceres'  plain, 

Drowning  the  pastures  and  the  flowery  meads, 
Ev'n  so  my  tears,  that  overflow  my  fire, 
Drown  my  delight,  but  not  my  love's  desire. 


TO  HIS  BELOVED 

The  orient  colors  fine 

Will  fall  and  fade  away, 

But  let  that  sweetest  love  of  thine 
Still  live  and  ne'er  decay. 

The  margarital  gem 

For  praise  deserves  thy  name, 
So  like  you  are  to  them 

As  Nature  shows  the  same. 

The  sun  shall  cease  to  shine, 

The  moon  shall  lose  her  light 

Before  these  constant  eyes  of  mine 
Choose  any  new  delight. 


APPENDIX.  259 


A  CONTENTED  MIND 


I  weigh  not  Fortune's  frown  or  smile; 

I  joy  not  much  in  earthly  joys; 
I  seek  not  state,  I  reck  not  style, 

I  am  not  fond  of  fancy's  toys ; 

I  rest  so  pleased  with  what  I  have, 
I  wish  no  more,   no  more  I  crave. 

I  quake  not  at  the  thunder's  crack; 

I  tremble  not  at  noise  of  war, 
I  swoon  not  at  the  news  of  wreck, 

I  shrink  not  at  a  blazing  star. 
I  fear  not  loss,  I  hope  not  gain, 
I  envy  none,  I  none  disdain. 

I  see  ambition  never  pleased, 

I  see  some  Tantals  starved  in  store, 
I  see  gold's  dropsy  seldom  eased, 

I  see  even  Midas  gape  for  more ; 
I  neither  want,  nor  yet  abound; 
Enough's  a  feast.     Content  is  crowned. 

I  feign  not  friendship  where  I  hate, 
I  fawn  not  on  the  great  in  show, 

I  prize — I  praise  a  mean  estate 

Neither  too  lofty  nor  too  low; 

This,  this  is  all  my  choice,  my  cheer, 

A  mind  content,  a  conscience  clear. 


260  APPENDIX. 

CONSTANCY 

A  solid  rock,  far-seated  in  the  sea, 
Where  many  vessels  have  been  cast  away, 
Though  blackest  storms  of  blustering  winds  do  threat, 
Though  boisterous  rage  of  roaring  billows  beat, 
Though  it  be  raked  with  lightning  and  with  thunder, 
Though  all  at  once  assault,  and  each  asunder, 
With  massy  bulk  of  itself's  marble  tower, 
Still,  still  repels  th'  inevitable  stour, 
And  seems  still  firmer  and  more   permanent, 
The  more  the  tempest  hath  been  violent. 

Right  so  the  faithful,  in  whose  humble  breast 
Religious  fear  of  God  is  deep  impressed. 
Whatever  stroke  of  fortune  threat  his  state, 
Whatever  danger  him  discommodate, 
Whatever  mischief  that  betide  him  shall, 
Whatever  loss,  whatever  cross  befall; 
Inflexible,  invincible,  pursues 
The  sacred  footing  he  did  ever  use; 
And  ay  more  constant  and  confirmed  is  he, 
The  more  extreme  his  sad  afflictions  be. 


THE  SOUL'S  ERRAND 

Go,  Soul,  the  body's  guest, 
Upon  a  thankless  errand ; 

Fear  not  to  touch  the  best; 

The  truth  shall  be  thy  warrant. 

Go  thou,  since  I  must  die, 

And  give  the  world  the  lie. 


APPENDIX.  261 

Go,  tell  the  court  it  glows 

And  shines  like  rotten  wood ; 
Say  to  the  church  it  shows 

What's  good,  but  doth  no  good. 

Tell  potentates  they  live, 

Acting  by  others'  action; 
Not  loved  unless  they  give, 

Not  strong,  but  by  a  faction. 

Tell  men  of  high  condition 

That  in  affairs  of  state 
Their  purpose  is  ambition, 

Their  practice  only  hate. 

Go,  tell  the  young  nobility 

They  do  degenerate, 
Wasting  their  large  ability 

In  things  effeminate. 

Tell  those  that  brave  it  most, 

They  beg  for  more  by  spending; 

And  in  their  greatest  cost 

Seek  but  a  self-commending. 

Tell  Zeal  it  wants  devotion, 

Tell  Love  it  is  but  lust; 
Tell  priests  they  hunt  promotion; 

Tell  flesh  it  is  but  dust. 

Tell  townsmen  that  because  that 

They  prank  their  brides  so  proud, 

Too  many  times  it  draws  that 

Which  makes  them  beetle-browed. 

Go,  tell  the  palace  dames 

They  paint  their  parboiled  faces, 


262  APPENDIX. 

Seeking  by   greater  shames 
To  cover  less  disgraces. 

Say  to  the  city  wives, 

Through  their  excessive  bravery, 
Their  husband  hardly  thrives 

But  rather  lives  in  slavery. 

Tell  London  youths  that  dice, 

Fair  queans,  fine  clothes,  full  bowls, 

Consume  the  cursed  price 

Of  their  dead  fathers'  souls. 

Say  maidens  are  too  coy 

To  them  that  chastely  seek  them, 
And  yet  are  apt  to  toy 

With  baser  Jacks  that  like  them. 

Tell  poets  of  our  days 

They  do  profane  the  muses 

In  soothing  sin  with  praise 
That  all  the  world  abuses. 

Tell  tradesmen  weight  and  measure 

They  craftily  abuse, 
Thereby  to  heap  up  treasure, 

Though  heaven  thereby  they  lose. 

Go,  tell  the  vicious  rich, 

By  usury  to  gain, 
Their  fingers  always  itch 

To  souls'  and  bodies'  pain. 

Yea,  tell  the  wretched  poor 

That   they   the   wealthy   hate, 


APPENDIX.  263 

And  grudge  to  see  at  door 
Another  in  their  state. 

Tell  all  the  world  throughout 

That  all's  but   vanity; 
Her  pleasures  do  but  flout 

With  sly  security. 

Tell  kings  and  beggars  base, 

Yea,  tell  both  young  and  old, 

They  all  are  in  one  case, 

And  must  all  to  the  mould. 


ENVOY. 


Now,  kindly  host,  adieu ! 

Rest  thou  in  earthly  tomb, 
Till  Christ  shall  all  renew 

And  then  I'll  thee  resume. 


Note. — The  foregoing  poem  appears  among  Sylvester's  miscellanies 
for  the  first  time  in  the  folio  of  1633.  The  version  attributed  to  Sir 
Walter  Raleigh  differs  slightly  from  this  in  the  first  seven  stanzas 
(omitting  the  fifth),  though  each  stanza  concludes  with  a  couplet  com- 
manding the  soul  in  case  of  a  reply,  to  "give  them  all  the  lie."  It  may 
be  found  in  full  in  Spofford's  "Library  of  Choice  Literature,"  in 
Bryant's  "Poetry  and  Song"  and  probably  in  other  collections  of 
recent  date. 


264  APPENDIX. 

THE  WORTH  OF  VIRTUE 

The  wise  man's  free  among  a  thousand  chains; 

He  only's  rich,  content  with  his  estate ; 
Only  secure  in  dangers,  eased  in  pains, 

Only  true  king  of  fortune  and  of  fate. 

He  is  not  daunted  with  a  tyrant's  threat, 

But  by  his  trouble  grows  more  strong  and  hard ; 

Knows  his  own1  merit ;  looks  not  to  the  great 
For  recompense.     Virtue's  her  own  reward. 

True  virtue's  conduct  cannot  purchas'd  be 
By  study,  treasure,  or  the  grace  of  kings ; 

Not  by  one  action,  or  by  two  or  three ; 

But  long,  long  practice  its  perfection  brings. 

Virtue,  contented  without  store  of  treasure, 
Nor  feeling  poverty's  abject  desire, 

Borrows  of  none,  but  constant  to  the  measure 
Of  just  provision,  will  no  more  require. 


GUIDANCE  FROM  ABOVE 

Another  hand,  another  eye  directs 
Both  death  and  nature  in  these  high  effects : 
The  eye  of  Providence,  the  hand  of  Power, 
Disposing  all  in  order  and  in  hour ; 
So  working  in,  so  waking  over  all 
That  but  by  those  doth  nothing  here  befall. 
Then  not  as  curs,  the  stone  or  staff  to  bite, 
Unheeding  why  or  who  doth  hurl  or  smite, 
Unto>  that  eye  let  us  erect  our  own 
And  humble  us  under  that  hand  alone. 


APPENDIX.  265 


SACRUM  MEMORIAE 


Ornatissimi  Pientissimi  Ipsius  Amici,  Magistri  Josuae  Syl- 
vester; Qui  in  Oppido  Middleburgensi  vicesimo  octavo  die 
Septembris,  Anno  Dom.,  1618,  annoque  aetatis  suae  55. 


FATIS  CONFESSIT. 


In  verse  to  personate  what  art  hath  painted, 
Craves  not  Apelles',  but  Apollo's  skill, 
The  vein  and  strain  of  Maro's  learned  quill, 

Or  some  with  sweet  Urania  best  acquainted. 

Yet  sith  even  all  whose  brows  are  deckt  with  bays 
Seem  to  neglect  thee,  Pan  hath  ta'en  the  pains, 
With  oaten  pipe,  with  homely,  rustic  strains, 

To  sound,  not  art's  but  heart's  plain,  warbled  lays. 

Is't  not  a  wonder  worthy  admiration, 

In  this  so  sinful — sin  foul — age  to  see 
All  real  virtues  in  one  man  to  be — 

All,  met  in  one,  to  have  cohabitation? 

Thou  wast  no  lordly,  great  cosmopolite ; 

Yet  much  renowned  by  thy  virtuous  fame ; 

A  saint  on  earth, — no  need  of  greater  name, — 
A  true  Nathaniel,  Christian  Israelite. 


266  APPENDIX. 

Thy  wisdom  in  thy  sparing  speech  was  shown. 

'Tis  strange  his  words  should  drip  whose  works  did 
stream, 

Yet  words  and  works  shone  all  with  Grace's  beam — 
Thy  piety,  sobriety,  well  known. 

Religious,  valiant,  like  good  Josua, 

Religious  in  thyself  and  family, 

Courageous  to  withstand  adversity 
And  worldly  cares,  which  most  men  most  dismay ; 

No  temporizer ;  yet  the  court  frequenting ; 

Scorning  to  soothe  or  smooth  this  age's  crimes; 

At  war  with  vice  in  all  thy  holy  rimes ; 
Thine  Israel's  sins,  with  Jeremy,  lamenting. 

No  Croesus-rich,  nor  yet  an  Irus-poor; 

The  golden  mean  was  thy  chief  love's  delight. 

Thy  portion  pleased  thee  well,  and  well  it  might. 
Than  piety,  what  riches  better?     More? 

Adorned  with  the  gifts  of  God's  good  spirit — 

I  mean  the  gift  of  tongues,  French,  Spanish,  Dutch, 
Italian,  Latin — as  thyself  few  such, 

But  for  thy  native  English  of  most  merit ; 

Wherein,  like  former  fluent  Cicero, 

With  figures,  tropes,  words,  phrases  sweetly  rare, 
Of  eloquence  thou  mad'st  so  little  spare, 

That  Nile  in  thee  might  seem  to  overflow. 

Witness  Du  Bartas,  that  rare  masterpiece 

Of  poetry,  to  past  and  future  times; 

By  whose  mellifluous,  sugared,  sacred  rimes 
Thou  get'st  more  fame  than  Jason  by  his  fleece, 


APPENDIX.  267 

Of  which  thy  work,  I  justly  may  aver, 

The  radiant  sunshine  is  so  fair,  so  trim, 
As  other  poets'  moonlight  much  doth  dim, 

Admired,  silver-tongued  Sylvester. 

Yea,  all  thy  full-eared  harvest  swathes  are  such 

As,  almost,  all  thy  brethren's  high-topped  sheaves 
Bend  low  to  thine,  like  autumn-scattered  leaves, 

So  white  thy  wheat  is,  and  the  weight  so  much. 

Nor  wrong  I  them  by  this  harsh  appellation ; 

Their  pleasing  vein  was  oft  too  vain,  but  thine 
Still  pleasant-grave;  here  moral,  there  divine; 

Right  poet-laureate  wert  thou  of  our  nation. 

This,  then,  say  I,  maugre  the  spleen  infernal 
Of  elvish  envy,  shall  promote  thy  praise, 
And  trim  thy  temples  with  ne'er  fading  bays; 

Such  heavenly  offsprings  needs  must  live  eternal. 

What  should  I  say?     Much  more  than  I  can  say: — 
A  man  thou  wert,  and  yet  than  man  much  more ; 
Thy  soul  resembled  right  an  house  of  store, 

Wherein  all  virtues  in  thee  treasured  lay. 

A  blessed  death  an  holy  life  ensues; 

Thy  pious  end  this  truth  hath  well  expressed; 

Such  as  thy  life,  such  was  thy  death,  all  blest, 
Thy  heaven-born  soul  her  native  home  did  choose. 

And  hadst  thou  died  at  home  it  had  been  better; 
It  would  at  least  have  given  thee  much  content, 
But  herein  England's  worthy  to  be  shent, 

Which  to  thy  worth  did  prove  so  bad  a  debtor. 


268  APPENDIX. 

Nor  mind  I  this,  but  then  I  blush  for  shame 

To  think  that  though  a  cradle  thee  we  gave, 
Yet,  O  unkind !  denied  thy  corse  a  grave, 

Much  more  a  statue  reared  to  thy  name. 

But  thou  wert  wise  who  to  thyself  built'st  one 
Such,  such  an  one  as  is  of  endless  date ; 
A  real,  royal  one,  which,  spite  of  hate, 

To  Time's  last  time  shall  make  thy  glory  known. 

Now,  though  thy  step-dame  country  cast  thee  off — 
Ah,  too  ungrateful,  most  unkind  to  thee, — 
Yet  here  accept  a  mite  of  love  from  me, 

Thy  meanest  brother,  this  mean  epitaph : — 

EPITAPH 

Here  lies — Death's  too  rich  prize — the  corse  interr'd 
Of  Josuah  Sylvester,  Du  Bartas'  peer; 
A  man  of  Art's  best  parts,  to  God,  man,  dear, 

In  foremost  rank  of  poets,  best  preferred. 

— John  Vicars. 


INDEX 


Aaron's  rod,  18 

Abderite,  171 

Acacia  nilotlca,  189n 

Aconite,  56,  58,  154 

Adam,    19,    119;    See    table    of 

contents   for   other  references 
Adder,  119 
Aeolian  scouts,  1 
Aeolus,  26 
Aeson,  55 
Agave,  180n 
Ahab,   19,   119 
Alcides,   56,  206,  217 
Aldus,  53 

Alexander  the  Great,  92 
Alexander's   altars,   206 
Alliteration,  17n 
Amalthean  horn,   23 
Amatory  verse,  xxvli 
America,  106n 
American     speech     influenced 

by    Sylvester,    xxiv,    xxv 
Amphitrite,  189 
Anagrams,  xv 
Anaesthesia,  139 
Andrian  spring,  48 
Angels'  rebellion,  15 
Antiperistasis,   28 
Apelles,  222 

Aprons  for  first  parents,  194 
Archimedes,  136 
Arion,  76n,  98,  167 
Aristotle,   38,   50,   159 
Armada,    Invincible,    xiv,   202,   229 
As  it  were,  119 
Assyrians  slaughtered,  20 
Asthma,  214 
Astrea,  205 

Avarice  personified,  222 
Bacchus,   174 
Baigneres,  49 
Baldric,  74 
Baltic,  232 

Bartas.  Description  of,  67n 
Bartholomew    massacre,    54 
Basilisk,  118 

"Battle   of  Ivry"  transl.,  xiv 
Bees,  110 
Biles,   216 

Birds,    103;    of   Paradise,    107 
Blain,    223 
Bonarets,  179 
Bosphors,   47 
Brawl,  5,  179 
Bristles,   222.   240 
Bronte,  Emilv.  2n 
Bronts    and    Sterops,    242 
Browne.      Sir     Thomas,      xxv. 
104n,    HOn,    141n 


Brutus,    165 

Butler,    Samuel,    xviii 

Byron,  3n 

Cain,  born,  235;  murders  Abel, 
236;  descendants,  237; 
founds  city,  237;  tames 
horse,  238 

Callicrates,  110 

Campbell,  llOn 

Candia,   167 

Caressing,  240 

Carpese,   207 

Castles,     floating,    209 

Cephus,  121 

Cerastes,  118 

Cerbas,  180 

Cerberus,  210 

Chaos,  5,  23 

Charybdis,   222 

Cheek  by  jowl,  11,  69 

Children  to  be  trained,  158; 
to  respect  parents,  159 

Chimeras,    213 

Chus,  28 

Cimmerian  mists,  6 

Comets,   31 

Comitial  ill,  218 

Compass  invented,  63 

Conscience,   196 

Constitution  of  man,  126 

Consultation  of  God,  Father 
and  Son,  125 

Convent  for  "convene",  196 

Copernicus,   72;   his  theory,   73 

Corvinus,  215 

Cosmography,   25 

Country  life,   64 

Cowper,  24n 

Cucujo,   106 

Cyclops,  242 

Cynosure,   158 

Cyrus,   133 

Dana,  Charles  A.,  xvi 

Dardan  ants,  105 

Dearth,   211 

DeMusset,   xxiv 

Desire  personified,  221 

Devil,  his  strife  against  God, 
16;  his  various  charac- 
ters, 190-191 ;  serving 
God,  147;  entrance  to 
Eden,  186 

Dog,  117 

Dragon,  116 

Dryden,    xviii,    113n,    232n 

DuBartas,   events   in  life  of,   xii 

Dunster,   Charles,   ix 

Eagle  and   maiden,   111 

Eagle-like,  185,  245 


Echo,  Air's  daughter,  167 

Eden,  site  of,  168;  fertility  of, 
172;  rivers  and  orchards 
of,  178;  caves  and  other 
wonders  of,  179,  ex- 
pulsion from,  201 

Elegies,   xxvii 

Elements  placed  in  order,   25 

Elephant,    116 

Eleusinian    spring,    47 

Elizabeth,    229 

Elizabethan  drama,  xvii 

Enamel,  133 

England  warned,  36 

Enoch,  247 

Enyo,  205,  224 

Epitome,    world's,    124 

Errata,  Preteric  for  preter- 
it, 15n;  29  for  39,  240n; 
counsel  ors  for  counsel- 
ors, 220;  sylly  for 
psylly,  308;  Bouillon 
for  Bouillon,  225n;  at 
bottom  of  page  253  in- 
sert after  the  word, 
"and,"  the  following: 
"of  King  Henry  of 
France.  The  other  la- 
ment was  for;"  Miton 
for  Milton,  xxiii 

Eve's  creation,  139;  excuses, 
196 

Eurimanus,  47 

Buripus  strait,  149 

Exhalations,  31 

Eyes,  diseases  of,  213 

Fair  and  softly,  24,  29 

Fear  personified,  221 

Fere,  14 

Fever,   214 

Fire,  37,  233 

Folks,   95 

Fountains  of  strange  quali- 
ties, 48-50 

France,  call  of  to  righteous- 
ness, 35 

Frisado,   243 

Froes,  245 

Fruit,  53;  taste  of  forbidden,  194 

Garments  of  Adam  and  Eve,  231 

Gascony,  49 

Gests  of  kings,   163,   181 

Gibraltar,    206 

Glittering,   186 

God's  care  of  the  world,  145, 
149;  discourse  with  Ad- 
am, 168,  176;  Thunder- 
Darter,  168;  Rebuke  of 
Man,  195;  Curses,  197 

Godfrey  of  Bouillon,   225 

Golden  locks  of  Phoebus,  134 

Gorgons,    210 

Greene,    Robert,    xvi 

Griffin,  104 

Grosart,  ix 

Halcyon,    106 

Hand   to  mouth,   193,   230 

Hart,  116 

Heart   takes   no   rest,   161 

Hedgehog,   117 

Henry  of  Navarre,  227,   228,  253 

Herod,  216n 

Hezekiah,    20,    89 

Hippocras,  65,  230 

Hippocrates,  171 


Holy  fits,  175 

Horace,  152n 

Horeb,  7 

Hornets,  219 

Host  of  heaven,  15 

Hun,   furious,   110 

Hunyadi  Janos,  215n 

Hyades,  183 

Hydras    and    harpies,    210 

Hyrens,  204 

Iceland  wonders,  49;  to  Afri- 
ca, 135 

Ichneumon,    120 

Idalian,  115 

Incarnadine,  101 

Infamous  sins,  224 

Ingenious,  172 

Interpolations,   164n 

Iron,  discovery  of,  241;  Isle 
of,  48 

Its,  163n 

James,  28,  67;  as  translator,  204 

Johnson,   Dr.    Samuel,   xxvii; 

Jonson,  Ben,  xxix,  220n 

Jordan  divided,  44,  69 

Joseph  sold,  148 

Joy  personified,    221 

Jubal,  242 

Judge-turned-Father,    203 

Judgment  day,  8 

Judith,  poem,  xii 

Justice    of    God    demonstrated,    148, 
150 

Kite,  ravening,  104 

Keats,  173n 

Karos,  213 

Lambourn,   66 

Lark,  103 

Leucippus,  7,  171n 

Leviathan,   209 

Light,   13 

Lightning,  31 

Lion,  108;  and  slave,  122;  mag- 
nanimity of,  160 

Loadstone,  62 

Locksley  Hall,  108n 

London,  173 

Lose-am,  30 

Lucania,  35 

Lusk,   87,  145 

Lycidas,  xviii,  xxvii,  20n,  36n; 
also  see  "Milton." 

Maiden  and  eagle,  111 

Maiden  voice,  224 

Man  in  detail,  126;  viceroy  of 
God,  137;  type  of  God, 
144;  not  of  metal,  152; 
Map  of,  162 

Mantichor,  121 

Maundeville,    Sir   John,   181n 

Marigold,   157 

Marriage  of  voice  and  verse,   103 

Marsupials,  121n 

Maypole,    25 

Medea,  55 

Memphians,  6,  19 

Mermecides,  110 

Midas,  60 

Midsummer  Night's  Dream,  249n 

Milo,  120 

Milton,  ix,  xviii,  xx,  and 
notes  at  pages  1,  3,  5,  7, 
15,  16,  17,  39.  41,  47,  65,  69, 
72,  73,  77,  78,  80,  93,  103, 
133,  134,  154,  158,  164,  166, 
167,  170,  179,  228,  229 


Minerals,  61 

Moluccas,  107 

Moly,  170 

Moon,  changes,  87;  stopped 
by  Joshua,  89;  Queen  of 
night,  79,  185 

Moore,  Thomas,  165 

Morel,  causing  madness,  200 

Moses,  7 

Moth  and  rust,  151 

Napell,  208 

Natolian,  225 

Nephews,  237,  249 

Neptune,  1 

Nesse,  222n 

Newton,  xxv 

Night,  13 

Nightingale,  103 

Oedipus,  183 

Orchids,  179 

Orion,  183 

Orithyia,  28 

Orpheus,   167 

Orrery,  136,  137 

Owl,  106,   124 

Pandora's  Box,  151 

Paradise  Lost,  notes  on  pages 
2,  7,  13,  16,  17,  40,  44,  51, 
59,  60,  72,  118,  177,  179, 
191,  192,  193,  195,  196,  210 

Parley,  193 

Pastors,  peers  and  princes  ad- 
monished, 161 

Paul,  175, 

Peacock,  109 

Pelican,  107 

Penthouse,  127 

Philip  of  Spain,  228n 

Phoenix,   101 

Phthiriasis,   216 

Physicians'    methods,    151 

Piers  Plowman,  201n 

Pine,  199,  221 

Pisa  (frescoes),  xxiii 

Planets,  78 

Plants,  55 

Plato,  39,  159 

Poets,    contemporary,    164 

Pomona,   165 

Pope,   12n,   64n,   230n 

Porcupine,   121,    222 

Portrait  of  Sylvester  mentioned,  x 

Prophecies  of  Adam,  244 

Psylly,    208 

Pullein  and  puttocks,  205 

Quinsy,  213 

Rain     explained,    29 

Rainbow,    33,    157 

Red  letters,  ii 

Red   sea,   42,   44,   48 

Regiomontanus,  HOn,   135n,   141n 

Religious   exaltation,   175 

Remora,    or   stop-ship,   97 

Rest  necessary,   152;    eternal,   154 

Resurrection,  11 

Rhinocerot,  115 

Ronsard,  xiii 

Sabbath,  observed  by  river, 
47;  by  men,  153;  of  eter- 
nity, 154 

Sacred  nose,  247 

Sage,  158 

Salt  mines,  60 

Sargon,  205 

Scythia,   28 

Seas'   inhabitants,  92 


Seasons,  85 

Seneca,  133 

Sennacherib,  19 

Sensitive  plant,   181 

Seth's  education,   243 

Shakespeare,  xi,  xv,  xix,  xx, 
notes  on  pages  4,  7,  24, 
39,  47,  62,  78,  79,  101,  127, 
138,  145,  156,  158,  163,  166, 
194,  196,  212,  215,  221,  222, 
223,  238,  249 

Shelley,   103,   167 

Siler,  219 

Silkworm,  111 

Since,  from  sithence,  23 

Skink,   118 

Skinker,  75 

Slops,    233 

Sonnet  to   Henry  IV,   227 

Sorrow  personified,  220 

Spanish    etymologies,    243n 

Spenser,  xiii,  164n,  201n 

Spider,   160 

Squirrel,  117 

Star-spangled,  42,  147 

Stars'  motion,  91;  influence,  81 

Stoics,  82 

Sun.  praise  of,  83 

Swallow,    103 

Swindge,   123,   156 

Sylvester,   notes  on  life  of,  xi,  xviii 

Syrtes,  222 

Tears    of   woful    eyes,    128 

Teend,  247 

Tennyson,    108n 

Tephys,    50 

Tester,  70 

Thief's  sensations,  193 

Thomson,  James,  227n 

Thrifty,    224 

Thunder-darter,    5 

Tobacco,  xix,  229n 

Tourists,   93 

Tree  of  life,  169,  184 

Trees  bearing  fish  and   fowl,   181 

Trench,    Dean,    243n 

Trollope,  Mrs.,  175n 

Tubal,  241 

Turks,  27,  35,  37 

Use,  in  sense  of  "frequent," 
xix,  229 

Usury,  224 

Vacuum,  Nature  abhors,  8 

Ventriloquist,   190 

Venus   and   Adonis,   238n 

Ver,  165,  167,  217,  231 

Vice  only  ill,  virtue  only  good,  152 

Virgil,   238n 

Virtue  must  act,  151 

War.  211 

Warble    forth,    1 

Waters  taking  shape,  44 

Whales,   92-93,   96 

Wine  leaving  flavor  with   casks,  165 

Wives  reminded   of  turtle-doves,   159 

Won.    to   dwell.    155 

Woodman's    bear,    249 

World  (meaning  "universe") 
its  birth,  1;  mirror  of 
God,  3;  a  stage,  3;  a 
book,  3;  built  from  no- 
thing. 4;  chaotic  condi- 
tion. 5 

Zephyr.   133 

Zodiacal  signs,  74 

Zopyrus,  127 


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